Draco Malfoy and the Point of No Return
by JVicious
Summary: When Draco Malfoy decides to change his life around, he is confronted with many obstacles that he must overcome before he can claim the life he wants as his own, which inevitably leads to tragic mis-happenings. Diary writing, fortune telling, betrayal, ps
1. Chapter 1

**Draco**** Malfoy and the point of no-return**

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**Chapter 1: **

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**Gits****, confrontations and psychiatrists, oh my__**

Author: JVicious**  
**Author email: viciousauthor@yahoo.ca**  
**Category: mystery drama action adventure romance comedy**  
**Keywords: draco harry hermione ron psychiatrists malfoy**  
**Spoilers: For all four books**  
**Rating: PG-13**  
**Summary: When Draco Malfoy decides to change his life around, he is confronted with many obstacles that he must overcome before he can claim the life he wants as his own, which inevitably leads to tragic mis-happenings. Diary writing, fortune telling, betrayal, psychiatrist visits and mysteries will ensue.__

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Other citations will be made where necessary.****

_The __Malfoy__Mansion__, around Christmas time._

The dream was constant. The same death. The same love. The same feeling of remorse.

First it started with the woman. The one with the long flowing hair and the one with the piercing gray eyes. Violetta was her name and Draco knew her well. All it took was one word from her rosy lips and he found himself in her command. He didn't know how to stop the urge to do what she said. And even more confusing was the shape her shadow took; always a man, and it puzzled Draco. 

The death consisted of a faceless person. Whether old or young, Draco could not decipher. The corpses' features were obscured by her white silver hair, which was unmovable.

 "Veela hair. But why?" Draco thought out loud.

Try as he might to pry the strands off the body, they would just get tighter, and he could even see a trickle of dark blood seeping from the sides.

He'd always wake up with a sudden jolt. And the dream was always the same. Never continuing, never elaborating.

"_Lumos_" he would say before splashing his face with water and ending the night off in a restless sleep, in a dimly lit room.

**********

_Hogwart's__ school, Christmas morning._

Ginny Weasley was up early before the rest of the world was even awake, and on Christmas morning. It was the nightmare that kept her from sleep, the one she had been hearing since her first year of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle was all she could think of. He plagued her mind. She could not help shudder as she remembered what he did to her. The things that couldn't even imagine revealing to anyone; the horrible details everyone knew but refused to admit. The untold story that was buried deep inside the chamber of secrets.

"Look at you," he would hiss in her ear, "you're _filthy_. What _have_ you gotten up to? There's blood and feathers all over you. Wonder what _mummy _and _daddy _would say if they saw their little girl looking like a murdering whore."

All she could do was whimper, "stop", over and over again. "I think I should clean you up," he would say as he got down on his knees and began to lick the blood off her delicate, young fingers.

"Stop," she would whimper again, but this time more loudly. "Oh, but I've only just begun," he said, standing up and now looming over her like a tall willow tree.

"And the fun hasn't even started."

The memory of what he did to her young, fragile body made her break out into a cold sweat and hot tears. She needed to get away from the memory of Tom. She needed to escape the constant threat of his present form, You-Know – oh sod it, Voldemort. She needed to escape Harry, not because he did anything, but the fact that whenever she looked at him, all she saw was the black hair that reminded her of _him_. The hair that rubbed against her cheek, the hair that felt like sandpaper, the scent of his hair that she would inhale as he abused her mind and body. She needed to escape any reminder. So she left that summer, for a Beauxbatons exchange. Things had to change.

**********

_The Burrow, seven months later._

"Morning loves!" said Mrs. Weasley the same way she did every morning to the three companions; Ron, Harry and Hermione. Ginny would have been part of that group if not for the fact that she was on a full-year exchange at Beauxbatons, and had left in May, having done her O.W.L's earlier. She had, surprisingly enough, made quick friends with Fleur DeLacour's second cousin, Françoise, who was three quarters veela, within a few days of arrival. Ron found this highly annoying, not seeing how her sister could become friends with the sister of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen next to Fleur, but turned every shade of red whenever she sent him a letter along with Ginny's owl (it seemed that veela charm rubbed off in letters, too). Françoise was first forced to sending the letters, as a favour to her friend, but soon found herself quite taken with Ron's sensitivity, which he would only show in their "intimate" letters. What was said in the letters had become the most popular reason to tease Ron.

"Received another have you?" said Mrs. Weasley, while using her wand to magically flip some sausages around in a pan.

Ron glared at her. "Mum!" he drawled, "Would you _quit_ teasing me about it! And she's _not _my girlfriend! We've only met once! She's just being _friendly._"

Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Oh Ron, you know it _is _alright to have a girl friend! Even if the relationship is long-distance! Percy, Charlie and Bill all went through that same thing! Well, none of them quite had the relationships _you're_ having, but you get my drift!"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah Ron, don't be ashamed of your _girlfriend_."

Ron stood up, looking ever more exasperated than before.

"Really now! If you're going to be immature about me corresponding with Gabrielle…"

"Oh look whose talking! And _corresponding _doesn't seem like the right word. More like _necking _or _snogging_, or…" Hermione said looking teasingly at Ron while trying to stifle her fit of laughter. She found it really funny whenever Ron got defensive over Gabrielle's 'friendly' letters which included messages like 'des grands becs!' and 'je t'aime!'.

"Ok guys, I think Ron has had enough teasing for today," said Harry monotonically, not bothering to look up from his meal.

Ron sat down. "Thanks Harry," he said but Harry didn't even look up to smile like he usually did.

Hermione stared at him though, with a look of pity in her eyes. "Harry," she asked worried, "Is everything alright?"

Harry stared back, looking a little dazed. "I'm fine," he said with a tone of finality in his voice along with a forced smile.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other thinking the same thing:

_Cedric Diggory_

It had been about two years since Harry had witnessed the death of one of the four champions in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Try as he might to forget about what happened, he was always constantly reminded about it because of Fred and George talking about the fortune he had given them, and Françoise's letters. He just couldn't escape it. Harry had been so distant with everything that even his closest friends could only guess the pain that he was suffering inside. Even the comment that Draco Malfoy had made at the end of 4th year had sat with him for as long as he could remember. It was enough that Draco had to say something, but it was another thing to _know _that it was true, and his muggle-born friend Hermione and his muggle-lover friend Ron, would be killed by Voldemort, who was now stronger and more powerful than before.

 "_You've picked the losing side Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riff-raff like this! Too late now Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well – second – Diggory was the first."_

Hermione quickly changed the subject. "Harry, your birthday is coming up, you want anything special?" she asked looking hopeful at him, while inching her hand closer to his.

Harry just grunted in response through egg that was forcefully stuck in his mouth. Usually he would swallow his food right away to answer to something as special as his birthday. After all, this was like a new experience for him. The Dursley's hadn't exactly showered him with birthday presents and parties like they had for Dudley.

"_Harry,_" Hermione persisted. "you know it is alright to talk about your worries. We _are_ your friends, you know. It's not like you have to confess to Professor Snape."

Harry twitched in his seat. "I _have_ no _worries_," he sneered, "I wish people would just leave me alone!"

And at that, he got up, tapped at a pack that was concealed inside his breast pocket at them all. Mrs. Weasley sighed. So did Ron and Hermione. 

Harry had had enough of the responsibilities and ordeals he'd had to face since the age of 11. He believed that the only way to escape was to get indulge in something. He had tried drinking before, but after dealing with so many hangovers, he decided it wasn't worth waking up every morning with throbbing headaches and nausea. So he started smoking. When he had started, he had coughed a little, and felt rather sick, but was determined that it would be _him _abusing the cigarettes, not the other way around. Well, determination paid off for Harry Potter. When he smoked, it gave him a calming, almost numbing feeling inside. He knew the dangers of smoking, since he had heard his Aunt Petunia ranting and raving about how it gave you cancer, but it made Harry all the happier. He wanted to die almost, but not in just one swift blow. Every drag he took made him want to die a little bit more, and the more he died inside, the safer he felt that his friends would be, because eventually, he wouldn't be there as a danger to them, and then the Dark Lord wouldn't want to attack them, because really, what was the point of hurting his friends if he wasn't there to get hurt himself? They could pass under the Dark Lord's radar, and Harry could have peace at last.

Hermione and Ron tried to discourage him from it time and time again, but all he would say back was "No. It's the only thing I've had that's my own". Which only made them feel insulted, because they always felt _they were his as well, his best friends, confidants, even family. They had never hung around with anybody else except one another. But, they had learned to deal with it._

As soon as they had stopped obsessing about his little habit, he seemed to be a much happier person. Although, they had made a deal that he could smoke, but just not around them. Mrs. Weasley knew very well that it was illegal what Harry was doing, but she didn't want to intervene, not with the way he had been acting lately. She also knew what he had been through in the past few years, but she put herself in denial, trying to reassure herself that he wasn't smoking, and that it was all a dream. Since she didn't want the dream to end, she "allowed" him to smoke outside. They wished he wouldn't do it in the first place, but honestly, what could they do?

**********

Harry looked at the pack of "Owl Lights" that he had grabbed out his pocket. He took one of the cigarettes out, and looked at its dark and sparkling contents. These weren't much different than muggle cigarettes, except for the color. Try as the creators might, there were just some things that magic couldn't beat. The pack had a glittering owl that flapped its wings back and forth whenever he took one out.

Harry stuck it between his lips and started the lighter he had stolen from Uncle Vernon before he left for the Burrow.

After taking a few drags from it, he felt a cold, small hand touch his shoulder. 

"I thought you didn't like it when I smoked around you, Hermione." Harry said not even bothering to turn around and face one of his best friends.

"You're my best friend Harry, I'm not going to let you drown yourself in sorrow. You're hurting, I can tell. But you won't tell us what's the matter, so can you just talk to me for a minute? Can you just try?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione, it's not that I can't talk with you, it's just that I can't talk with _anyone_. Sometimes just being alone helps." He took another drag on his cigarette.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I hear there are psychiatrists that advertise in Diagon Alley. They are supposed to be really helpful. They can solve your problems and give you solutions in less than 10 days or less."

This time Harry did turn around. He bore his green eyes into Hermione's brown ones. "Look, what part of "_not talking to anyone"_ did you not understand?"

"Harry, I'm only trying to help!" Hermione pleaded. "Please! I hate seeing you in this state! And if you can't talk to either of us, your _best friends_, then I thought, well, erm, that professional help might do the job! They _have_ improved from Sirius's days you know."

Harry blinked. He remembered that after Sirius had gotten out of Azkaban, he had sought out a psychiatrist, and had gotten one, but had gotten so fed up with paying 1 000 galleons a session, and not getting _any_ results, that he had just stormed out. Sirius had told Harry so many funny and depressing stories about psychiatrists that he had not been able to take them seriously for the life of him.

_"Hermione!"_ Harry pleaded. _"Please!_ I know you are trying to help, and believe me I'm grateful that you are at least trying, but honestly… Some things just can't be helped by professionals and this is something I have to figure out for myself."  
  


Hermione's eyes began to well up. "If you think that that it's the most logical choice…" she said trailing off, doubt obvious in every word.

Harry put his hands on her shoulders, his cigarette dangling from the right hand corner of his mouth. "Right now, I feel I'm doing what I _know is best for me. And maybe someday, I'll break down and tell you all what's buggering up my life. But right now, I cannot even begin to figure out what is making me feel so miserable. Give me time; until then, do not, and I repeat _do not_ let your summer be ruined by a self-pitying git like me"._

And for the first time in weeks, Harry smiled. A true smile, and Hermione could not take it anymore. She let tears of joy and sadness run freely down her face.

Harry took the cigarette out of his mouth and into his right hand and pulled her into his arms, and for more than a few minutes, they just stood there in the midday sun, holding each other and comforting each other in silence, while clouds of idle, purple smoke spiraled around Hermione's dark hair.

**********

Draco yawned and groaned, simultaneously, having been rudely awakened by his father, Lucius Malfoy.

"Wake up boy. We're going to get your school supplies." He said, his jaw stiff and his gray eyes piercing into Draco's sleeping face.

"A little excited here? It's not even August yet and you want to get my school supplies? All the sooner to be rid of me? How sweet of you." Draco said looking back at his soldier-stiff father.

"Don't talk back to me like that boy! You know what the consequences are for disobeying your elders!"

Draco shuddered. He remembered when he told his father two years ago that Lucius sounded a lot like Lucie. He had been sent down to a secret room that even Draco had had no previous knowledge of and was forced to do hard physical labour for a week with little food and drink, so that he would "learn" to respect. Draco wanted to say something about him being confusing the term "respect" with "utter madness" but he held his tongue, knowing what would happen if he didn't.

"Alright then father, I'm getting up. I'll be down in 20 minutes." Draco said still wincing at the thought of the "consequences"

"See that you do." And with that, Lucius Malfoy spun around and walked out of his sons room, black robes laced with the Malfoy emblem, which was a calligraphy 'M' with a snake twirling around it, flowing behind him.

Draco stared lazily after his father. "Gherkinized git" he hissed before kicking off his dark green bed sheets and getting up to look in the mirror.

"I'm a mess," he thought aloud, ruffling his light hair that glimmered in the sun that was peaking through his curtains.

But an inside voice spoke back; _"You were always a mess, and you will be for the rest of your life. It's in your blood."_ Draco scowled to himself and entered his private bathroom down the hall. Everything seemed to be adorned with snakes. The set of taps, the showerhead, even the toilet flusher had a silver, sinister looking snake head that bared four huge long teeth and a curling tongue. 

He remembered that his father had done this right after he got word that his only son was placed into Slytherin. At the time, Draco had been thrilled at the new renovations of his once dusty and under-used bathroom, but now five years later he found all of this quite pretentious. 

He turned the handle and water came pouring out of the showerhead snake. He took off his pyjamas and stepped in. He tried holding back a tiny gasp as the freezing water hit his body, but he failed miserably. Soon enough, the water changed to warm, contrasting his normally coolish behaviour and body temperature.

He had only started to enjoy the sweet release of the warm shower when he heard someone open the door and walk silently before the shower curtain, curling pale, small fingers around the edges before drawing it back.

_"Mum!_" Draco cried, ultimately horrified being naked before his mother.

"S-sorry dear," stuttered Narcissa, "I-I just wanted to tell you that your father wants you down for breakfast in five minutes."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "And he couldn't' tell me this himself, why?"

Narcissa straightened up. 

"Your father is a _very _busy man. Besides, he thought it best for me to make myself more useful, by doing this." 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

"You know mum, it _is_ alright to call dad a sodding arsehole sometimes you know. It's not like I'm going to _tattle-tale_."

Narcissa's eyes suddenly grew large. She looked with bewildered eyes at her son's angry countenance, his skin every bit as pale as her own. Narcissa opened her mouth to say something, but closed it quickly.

"Well mum," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "although I dearly love this deep non-verbal conversation we're having, if I'm to meet _daddy's wishes_, you better leave me to the rest of my shower." Draco said 'daddy's wishes' like he had some sort of bitter taste in his mouth.

Narcissa looked down at her feet. "Of course, how foolish of me." And left as silently out of the door as she had coming in.

Sighing, Draco laid his head against the shower's silver tiles. "I can never have peace here."

He then got out and wrapped a dark green towel around his pale, built waist, splashing his face with soap and water.

"Well, I may be a mess inside, but I still have my looks." He said smiling, rubbing insta-sleek gel in his hair before returning to his room, only to find another surprise when got there.

**********

_          Beauxbaton, 1 month back_

Ginny lugged her heavy, hand-me-down suitcase through the magnificent, pearly doors of Beauxbatons to their main hall. She was simply lost for words when she looked around the Academy. The whole ceiling was enchanted to look like one large sun. She took in its warmth and smiled, feeling like a part of Beauxbatons already, despite the fact that she looked very out of place in the blue castle with her black, frayed robes that had once been Ron's. When she saw someone walking across the main hall, she rushed towards them, and in her best French, uttered some words, which she thought meant "Do you know where your headmistress is?" but obviously they meant something else, because the person just looked at her disgusted, snorted and walked away. She stood around for about five minutes longer, but to her it felt like five hours. Just when she thought she was going to have to spend all year in the main hall (she didn't want to walk around and get lost in the enormous castle), a girl, about sixteen, floated down the halls. She stopped and walked to Ginny. 

"Are you lost?" She asked, flinging her long, silky silver hair behind her.

Ginny was surprised that the girl spoke English so well. "Yes, I am, actually. I'm looking for Madame Maxime. Do you know where she is?"

The girl smiled. "I do. Follow me. Oh, and I am Françoise Delacour. Pleased to meet you." 

"I'm Ginny Weasley, nice to meet you too," she said as they shook hands. 

Ginny was beginning to think that soon Tom would be out of her head. But she had never been so wrong.

**********

Walking along the long dark halls back to his room, Draco hummed a tune while creating small puddles of left over water that hung on his hair and body.

He stopped in front of his bedroom door, which was closed.

"That's odd," thought Draco, "I don't _remember_ closing it."

Shrugging it off, he turned the cold handle and gasped. There was a dark, cloaked shape looming over and peering under his bed.

Draco cleared his throat. "You know Dad, if you've lost your contact lens _again_, I don't think looking under my bed, where's there is plenty of dust, is going to help."

Lucius, startled, banged his head on the edge of his bed, and stood up, groaning and rubbing a sore spot on his temple with his bony grey fingers.

"Do _not_ startle me like that boy!" said Lucius dryly, looking furious.

Draco crossed his arms. "Well what am I supposed to do? Say "Oh Daddy, _please_ continue your treasure hunt under my bed! I just _love_ it when you go through my personal things." I didn't think so."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "I do not like your tone of voice boy." 

For a moment they just stared at each other, both pairs of grey eyes shinking with the same malice and comtempt. Ice upon ice. Then Draco broke the silence.

"So what _was_ so fascinating under my bed?"

Lucius smiled evilly. 

"Are you hiding anything from us boy?"

"You're not answering my question. I've nothing hidden under the bed. Besides, I keep the high doses of muggle narcotics, alcohol and porn in the closet. But really, Father, I'm hiding nothing."

Lucius frowned. "I'll ask this one more time. Are you hiding anything from us boy?"

Draco sighed. "No, I'm not. So would you answer my question."

"I think you're lying." Lucius stated bluntly. Draco looked taken aback, then regained his composure.

"I _never_ lie," he said between his gritted teeth.

Lucius did that evil smile again.

"Then how do you explain this?" And he pulled form behind his back a parchment with his mother and father drawn on it.

It was quite an amusing picture, Draco always thought. It featured his mother looking like a zombie, complete with bloodshot eyes that look liked they were about to pop out of her head, and her arms flailing straight out before her. She even had a dialogue bubble that said "take me to your leader."

The sketch of his father was something Draco was most proud of. He drew him abnormally straight, with a very large and thick stick coming out of his behind.

Draco snapped out of thought and found that Lucius was waving the parchment right in front of his nose.

"Do you think this is funny boy? What ever possessed you to do such a thing? Disgracing us like that!" Lucius said spitting on the picture in the process.

Draco just smirked.

"I knew that if I drew this picture, that it would get first place in the 'deranged family' art contest at school."

Lucius looked like he could fume at the ears.

"Your morning is not starting off well boy. First you disobey my orders, then you frighten your mother and even then you're not done, no! You have to go and mock us! Mock your parents who have cared for you all your life."

"I believe _frighten_ isn't the correct word. More like 'joke' or 'kid', a less harsh word. And _caring_? I won't even begin to describe how that lacks in this household!"

Lucius ripped the parchment into little pieces.

"I _had_ planned something wonderful but now today's plans are going to change _drastically_. You need help boy, _help._ Your mind is not here," he said as he tapped Draco's forehead.. "I don't know what's wrong with you boy, but you are not acting as a Malfoy should!" 

He threw the ripped pieces into the air. Stepping through the cloud of floating bits of paper, Lucius stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Draco gathered the bits into a pile, feeling its texture under his hands. He pointed his wand at the pile and muttered _reparo_, watching the pile spring back into its original state. He then opened his closet, looking for a place in the back, and stuffed the picture there, not caring what happened to it anymore.

"Your plans may have changed drastically, but mine sure haven't."

And with that he pulled out his clothes for the day and slammed the closet door shut.

**********

"Hermione!" yelled Ron outside her window.

"Do stop studying for classes that haven't even started yet and come outside to grace us with your presence so that we can decide what to do today!"

Hermione had been reading her few new textbooks more than often these days. Even though she _had _spoken to Harry and gotten many things cleared up, she still couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Coming Ron!" she said slamming her 'Arithmancy, Level 4' on her table. She ran downstairs, opened the door, and squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the bright sun.

"Look what Ron's dad left us for the day!" beamed Harry. 

Hermione, not daring to look straight into his face, followed to where his hand was pointing. It was the Ford Anglia.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Ron… you aren't going to _fly_ it are you? What if some muggles saw you, or it ran out of gas, or…" Her mind was already backing the their second year at Hogwarts when Ron had driven his father's car into the Womping Willow.

But Ron interrupted her. "We aren't going to fly it Herm! Mum made Dad take off the flying charm. By driving, we get to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade _much _faster than if we wait around for them to come home and give us floo powder to use. However," he shrugged, "We have to take a little detour into London first. Don't want to scare the wizards with a car that drives on the ground as opposed to in the air."

"I thought we were deciding what to do today, not telling me that the two of you have already planned things! Because there's this new library just south of Diagon Alley that supposedly has one of the best selection of unicorn books that could really help me with my essay and –"

But Hermione was interrupted yet again by Harry putting his hands on her shoulders. She winced a bit, because it brought back memories to their little "talk" and for some reason, right now, she didn't want to remember it.

"You've been inside for most of the summer Hermione, come and be social for a few hours! Whichever professor you're writing this essay for can just bloody well wait. It's summer! Just _relax_!"

A bit flustered, Hermione suddenly became very interested in her blue sandals.

"Sure… sounds great!" she said, again not daring to look into Harry's eyes.

Harry smiled, pulled a cigarette out of his pack, marched to the car, and pulled out his lighter when Ron stared having a hissy fit.

"_Harry!_" he whined, "no smoking in the car! It's enough that we have to put up with it at all, but not in the Ford Anglia!" He whined again patting the hood of the blue car, causing it to purr slightly in the engine.

Hermione crossed her arms.

"If we're going to get_ anywhere_ today, we'd all better shut up and get a move on, so Ron, stop whinging, and Harry, I'm sure your fag fix can wait until the Leaky Cauldron."

Both boys frowned and said 'hmph' under their breath.

As Ron walked to the driver's side he said "I really don't get how you have so much power over two blokes who are many heads taller than you, I really don't."

The car ride was much more enjoyable. To Hermione's relief, Harry had decided to make himself comfortable in the back seats and slept during their entire trip.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, "have you noticed anything, well, erm, _odd_ about Harry these days?"

Ron turned a corner very sharply causing Harry to groan. Hermione looked back hoping he was still asleep, and to her relief he seemed to have sunk into an even deeper one.

"Yeah," Ron whispered back, "he used to smell like a Quidditch field, but now he stinks more than my fire place."

Hermione poked him with her finger. "No, I mean _really _odd, behaviour wise."

Ron sighed.

"Herm, Harry's a special case and you have to take him into consideration before dubbing him 'unusually pratty'. For eleven years, he's been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, lived with the worst muggles that come near to Lucius Malfoy in the 'tediously snarky and pratty' competition, his parents died close after his birth thanks to a big-headed dark wizard, he's been pursued by the same git since he arrived at Hogwarts, he's had near death experiences every year, his godfather is a reputed 'murderer' who is known everywhere, including the muggle world. To top it of two years ago he witnessed an innocent boy being killed by the same person who killed his parents." Ron stopped to catch his breath before continuing. "Now you tell me how this new behaviour is _odd?"_

Ron had a point, but it still didn't feel right, no matter how true Ron was being.

"But he never used to be like this Ron. It's just so sudden. It was as if after school had ended for the year he decided to drop his sweet behaviour behind and pick up a, well, bad-boy one."

Ron sighed again under his breath.

"You do realize he's been putting on that brave face for us?"

Hermione blinked. "W-what do you mean?"

"He's the 'great Harry Potter'. He can't afford to look all depressed. Plus, because he's just too damned good-natured, he didn't want us to go and feel down with him, so he's bottled it off until he couldn't take it anymore. So now this is sixteen years of battled and repressed anger and confusion. Just let him be Hermione, its really all that both of us can really do right now, that and supporting him whenever he needs a shoulder to cry on. He's been listening to us wail, whine and gnash our teeth for six years, now it's our turn to do the same for him."

Hermione was speechless. Ron became flushed in the cheeks and looked almost relieved that he said all that and got if off his chest. She turned back and watched Harry's sleeping form. He looked so peaceful and care-free, and right now she so desperately wanted to know what was going through his head so that she could do something, if anything, to get even a little of the "old" Harry back.

**********

As the Malfoy family marched down Diagon Alley, people seemed to part down the middle, avoiding the look about Lucius that demanded that they move. Any person who was stupid enough to ignore him was greeted by the famous "Lucius Death Glare"; Draco often thought that it should be registered as a lethal weapon. It always left people soiling themselves.

As they were about to turn into 'The Leaky Cauldron', Draco heard an unfamiliar high-pitched voice coming from afar.

"LUCIUS!" shrieked the voice.

"LUUUCIUS dahling!" shrieked the voice again.

"Ah, Beryl," said Lucius opening his arms to allow this woman to embrace him and cover both his cheeks in red lipstick.

"Durr! This is such a coincidence!" said Beryl, clapping her hands together.

She was a short and round woman, with dark red hair that was pulled back into a tight, short ponytail at the nape of her neck, and skin that was caked with foundation, which was obviously a few shades too dark. She had charcoal and blue eye shadow right up to her brow bone. Her red lipstick was a bit smudged from greeting Lucius.

Her robes were a deep red velvet with a bright pink trim, which matched her also bright pink square glasses. Her fingers were laden with large sparkly rings, her long nails were tinged with red, and black varnish was added at the tips in means of a French manicure. To end it off, her arms were covered in sparkly gold bangles and she wore a pair of badly matched turquoise heels. Draco thought she looked like a mixture between Professor Trelawney and Rita Skeeter.

"Beryl, you remember my wife Narcissa and my son Draco?"

"Oh hoo hoo hoo I do! Naaarcissa, you look lovely as always! Where did you get that dress? And DRAAAACO dahling! How you've grown since I last saw you in bebe clothes. Looking very much like your father I must say! Mm durr, very handsome indeed!" she said in one breath, while at the same time managing to hug Narcissa, kiss her cheeks, pinch Draco's cheeks and using up the rest of her lipstick all over them.

"It's erm, um, very nice to see you again, erm, Ms…"

Beryl clapped him on the back.

"I forgot! Silly me for not doing a proper introduction! It's Beryl Cleaver, but since I'm a friend of the family, you can call me just Beryl, or Beryl Magda, that's my middle name, but that's just a quick interesting tidbit about me, so if you _really_ prefer, you can just call me Beryl, or Beryl Magda, but never just Magda, either Beryl _or_ Beryl Magda, but I think Beryl is _much_ easier to say than both names so let's just leave it at that shall we?"

Draco blinked. He had never met anyone who yammered on and on like Beryl. Yet she seemed to think that it was perfectly normal to talk at one hundred miles per hour. Draco was glad she was here however, since she seemed to bring the best out of his father, so he was distracted from today's "changes."

"Beryl," drawled Lucius, "we were just going into 'The Leaky Cauldron', why don't you join us?"

Beryl clapped her hands together again, causing a loud clanging and tinkling due to all her rings and bangles being slapped together.

"Why dahling, yars yars, I'd _lurve_ to join you! Durr, heaven knows I should _never_ go in that place without a date! Durr Lucius, thank you, I'd love to come!"

Beryl then linked her arm into Lucius's and pulled him into the pub. Draco rolled his eyes and Narcissa still had her head down and they both followed suit.

"So Beryl," drawled Lucius, smiling a smarmy smile, "still doing your house and flat hunt?"

"Yars, yars, as always Luuucius dahling!" she said stuffing her face with scones and clotted cream.

"Hope its going well, because you know you can't lodge at the 'Leaky Cauldron' _forever_, I mean, with all the ministry _business_ and stuff…" said Lucius,o who looked like he was about to give something secret away. He looked almost nervous. "… It's just completely out of your way to the office. You should be moving much closer! 

"Well durr Lucius, of course I'd _lurve_ to move closer to the office, but whenever I go out to check a possible house or flat, the muggles there get all frightened and kick me out whenever I simply test the place! Durr, its so silly! All I do is sprinkle some floo powder in the fire place, test the walls with my wand for the presence of a ghost, and dip my wand in a potion and test it on the air and floor to see what the aura is like, _if _there is one!"

Draco suddenly had a vision of a muggle couple, pressed up against a wall in fear watching Beryl nancing about their flat throwing floo powder in the air and tapping every flat surface for a 'presence'.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Again Beryl, _those_ flats and houses are out of your way to the office! There are residences right beside it you know!"

Beryl waved a dismissive hand, causing her bangles and rings to clatter and glitter.

"Only a twenty-minute walk Luuucius! And besides," she said lowering her voice to a whisper, "I'd rather not be neighbours with _Cornelius Fudge_ anyway. Nasty temper and snores _very_ loudly from what _I've_ heard. Anyway," now raising her voice so it was audible and was patting her stomach, "a twenty-minute walk every morning and night would do wonders on my _girth_! A ha ha ha ha ha!"

An awkward silence hung in the air and Draco broke it.

"So what part of the ministry do you work for Beryl?"

She choked a bit on her gin and tonic.

"'Scuse me dahling! You startled me a bit! Day dreaming a little about my dream house! I'm sorry, but could you repeat the question?" she pressed a ringed finger to her ear, making it go forward. Draco couldn't help noticing the unusually large witch hat earring.

"I said," Draco was now feeling very exasperated towards Beryl and her calling him 'dahling' all the time, "which part of the ministry do you work for?"

"A ha ha ha ha! _That's _what you said! Well Draco dahling, in a very boring, a ha ha ha ha ha, section of the ministry. It's very grown up, so you might not understand it. So never you mind in what I do!" she said tapping the side of her noise, blatantly ignoring the fact that Draco was going into his sixth year.

He was starting to think that she was Cornelius Fudge's mistress and that all this nonsense of her not wanting to live near him was a pack of lies.

"Well Beryl, although we have thoroughly _enjoyed_ your company, we must go now and see Fitzherbert," said Lucius.

"Durr! For who! Oh, yars yars, for Draaaco! I see! Well, he's very, _very_, good! Helps to solve _anything_! Durr! He helped me realize that Arthur Weasley and I weren't meant to be since all we did was fight and natter, and since then he has developed a _wonderful_ family, Oh Luuucius dahling, don't give me that look! Forget about your bebe family fuel! And also I'm happy being single! And to think old Fitzi was a, well, you know! Durr, if you say you're off, then I'll go too! Have loads of errands to run! Byee!"

And out the door she went, a long flow of red, pink and turquoise coming from behind her.

Lucius turned on Narcissa and put a firm hand on her shoulder.

"I _know_ you remember Beryl, Narcissa!" he hissed. "The least you could have done was say hello back and have a little girl talk instead of me doing _all_ the work!"

"But L-Lucius, you said that if I didn't have anything good or interesting to say, don't say anything at all." Narcissa said meekly.

Lucius rolled his eyes menacingly.

"That doesn't apply to EVERY OCCASION woman! When politeness is due, even making a womanly squeak would justify! At least then the other person knows you exist! You're just lucky Beryl notices _everything_, including selective mutes like yourself!" 

By this time, Lucius had gone slightly red and Narcissa was wincing at the amount of pressure her husband was putting on her shoulder.

Draco just watched and felt like the whole room was looking at them. When he had had just about enough, he said, "Why don't we do what we set out to do?"

Lucius spoke while still staring coolly into Narcissa's wide and frightened eyes.

"Yes, good idea boy. We will go see Fitzherbert. This would be a good time for your mother to make up for her anti-social behaviour."

He then dropped his hand off her shoulder and marched out of the pub.

**********

Harry had snapped awake when the Ford came to a sharp stop at the side of the Leaky Cauldron. 

"Blimey… we here already?" Harry asked, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"This is definitely the Leaky Cauldron we use to get to Diagon Alley last time I remember. But you never know, Diagon Alley _could_ have moved near the Malfoy Mansion, in which case then we'd be really buggered," joked Ron.

"Oh ha ha ha, very funny." Smiled Harry.

He looked at Hermione, who seemed very twitchy and on edge.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She jumped at the sound of her name.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine, just excited! I've heard that they've brought Butterbeer to 'The Leaky Cauldron', and I'm deciding which magical-creature would be a good friend for Crookshanks! That's all!"

Harry stared at her a moment longer before getting out of the car.

The sun was so bright it took Harry awhile to adjust to it.

"So," said Ron shoving his hands in his pockets, "what shall we do now?" 

"I think we should first go to Flourish and Blotts, since schoolbooks are the most _important_ thing we need." Hermione beamed while Ron and Harry just looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "And then I suggest we go to the animal shop, and after that I'm out of ideas."

"It's all about you, isn't it Hermione?" joked Harry as he popped a cigarette in his mouth.

"W-well, I was _just_ suggesting! I mean you guys can go off and do other things if you want, but it's what I need, and since no one had come up with any ideas, so I thought-"

But she was cut off, because Harry placing his hands on her shoulders.

He chuckled. "Hermione, I don't know what's wrong with you these days, but you're acting _very_ odd! Whatever's bothering you, just let it go! It's the summer, relax! Have some butterbeer! Just _relax._"

And he walked off to Diagon Alley, Ron and Hermione tallying behind.

"If you're still worrying about what I said to you in the car, just _stop_ because I was only clueing you in, not trying to scare the bejesus out of you! Please, I want this to be a fun summer, not another one where everyone is avoiding each other's gaze," whispered Ron out of the corner of his mouth.

They were now at the brick wall which allowed you to enter into Diagon Alley.

"So, shall we go in?" asked Harry.

The other two nodded, and Harry tapped the stones in the pattern they were always tapped in. A passageway was created for them. Hermione sighed deeply and walked through with her two best friends.

**********

It seemed to Draco that they had been walking for hours before they got to their destination. It was a little shop squished in between the invisible barrier between Diagon and Knockturn Alley. You couldn't tell what part it belonged to since the middle of the shop was on that barrier.

However when Draco and his family entered "Witchdoctor's goods", it turned out that it wasn't a shop, but an office with a little waiting room, a secretary desk and a room with a plaque reading "Dr. F Tiddlywink". Draco tried not to laugh at such a last name as 'Tiddlywink'.

This must be the Fitzherbert that Beryl was going on about, he thought.

Lucius walked up to the secretary desk and cleared his throat. The sound echoed through the entire office, bouncing off every wall. The secretary looked up from her work and gave him a quizzical look.

"Can I help you?" she asked rather bluntly. 

Lucius looked down at her hard and cold.

"I believe we have an appointment with Fitzherbert right now. Yes I know there are others waiting patiently for their turn, but Fitzherbert is an old friend of mine. Could you _please_ give him this and tell him that Lucius Malfoy has arrived." And he handed her a folded note and gave her a cocky-yet-menacing smile. The secretary just looked at him, annoyed and not amused.

Lucius stopped smiling and leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, while putting a lot of pressure on her left arm. When he finished whispering, the secretary had literally gone white and was beginning to shake. 

"So go on then love. Give him this note and tell him _Lucius__ Malfoy_ has arrived."

The secretary took the note and walked towards the door. Head bent, she knocked twice before the door opened. Draco couldn't see the figure that opened it, but after the door closed, he could see the faint silhouette of two figures, one that had to be Dr.Tiddlywink, and the other that was unmistakably the secretary. The candles that were lighting his room flickered a bit when she gave him the note. The man unfolded it and read it, shaking his head. He put his right hand on the secretary's shoulder and said something to her, which Draco could not hear, but guessed it was something of comfort. The secretary came back outside with her eyes slightly red.

"He'll be with you in five minutes sir."

"Thank you miss," Lucius said silkily.

**********

Every step they took around Diagon Alley, Hermione kept wondering why she was so jumpy around Harry. "He's the same person… but somehow he's different… Well of course he's different, he's older, and he's not exactly the blushing, innocent boy you first met when we were eleven… Maybe it's the smoking? No don't be daft… He's just acting like there's nothing left in the world but him, his cigarettes, and his friends to live for…" She tried reasoning her head. She would get so lost in thought that Ron would always have to steer her out of a wall she was about to walk into.

"But Ron had a point with what he said in the car. All we can do is listen. Oh god, I wish there was some text, or some way to understand what's going on. But unfortunately these aren't hormone problems." Hermione kept rambling on to herself.

"Something happened, and right now I don't think it has anything to do with Harry."

And she decided to herself that she would find out what it was.

"There must be a way," she thought lastly before stepping into the 'Magical Menagerie'.

**********

When Dr. Tiddlywink was ready to see him, he called Draco's name, but still didn't come out of his office. Draco got out of his chair uneasily, looking at his family. His father pressed his fingertips together and nodded for him to go on, and his mother just busied herself with a book.

Determined not to be scared of an old man, he marched into the already open door, closed it behind him and turned around to face the office. The lights were so dim that Draco had to squint to get his eyes to adjust to such a dark place. There were candelabras around the entire room, and each of them was laden with wax. A fire was blazing in the already warm room, making him wish that he wore a t-shirt instead of his sweater.

The room was decorated with antique furniture all in good condition. The walls were a deep scarlet, with gold patterns on the crown moldings. The whole thing looked quite royal when compared to the plain secretary's office.

Sitting in a chair, with the back facing Draco, sat a man with black hair that looked almost as if it matched the walls when the firelight shone on it, making it reflect shimmers of scarlet. He sat there in silence, not doing anything. Draco wondered if he should go introduce himself, but decided against it. Instead he would walk around and say something. But what do you say to someone whom you haven't seen or met before?

But before Draco could do anything, the man cleared his throat.

"Ye-" Draco said, but he was cut off.

"You're Lucius Malfoy's son right? Draco?" said the man in a husky, drawling voice which resembled his own a bit.

"That would be correct, unless he's been lying to me all this time, and that my real parents are endangered grindylows".

Usually people would turn around and snap at Draco for talking to them like that. But not this man. He ran his hand through his coarse, long hair.

"Quite the tongue you've got there boy. No doubt that you got it from your father, I imagine."

Draco just stood there, not knowing what to do. For once in his life, he was feeling uncomfortable. High breeding and etiquette classes did little for how to conduct oneself while being professionally scrutinized. 

The man bowed his head and sighed, long tendrils of hair falling forward.

"Well sit down then, boy, and lets see what was so necessary that I had to stop a session with someone an hour before their time was up."

Draco sat down on a long, velvet covered psychiatrists' bench and saw who the man was.

It was Fitzherbert Tiddlywink, although he didn't quite fit the short, stubby profile that Draco had thought of before. He had a long, pale face, partially covered by his dark hair. He wore a white muggle business shirt, and as a jacket he wore a muggle soldiers jacket instead of robes. Draco didn't feel like mocking his "interesting" clothing tastes at this particular moment, however. His dark pants were old and weathered from constant wearing. The only thing new about him, Draco pointed out to himself, was his shoes, Italian leather, newly polished. His shoes glittered in the firelight. 

His pale blue eyes bored into Draco's gray ones, as if searching for an answer to an internal question he had.

Dr. Tiddlywink pushed a long strand of hair out of his eyes and stared at Draco for a few moments. Something about his gaze still made him uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat but never once lost eye contact with the psychiatrist. The only sound was the crackling fire that grew louder with each log that was magically placed on the burning pile.

"I'll try and put you at ease Draco, I'll tell you what I know of you," he started at last.

Draco slumped in his chair and shrugged gracefully. "Well then, proceed. It'll be interesting to see what stereotype you've put me in from staring at me for the past, oh, 5 minutes."

The psychiatrist continued as if he didn't hear Draco. He pulled out a sheet from a notebook and stared at it for a bit before continuing.

"You're father says you speak out of term. Your temperament seems to be that you are on edge more now than before and you seem either prone to bouts of quietude or petty rage."

Draco had a look of mock sympathy on his face. "That one little note fills you in on _all_ that Father sees wrong? Does it also say that I slept with a doll till I was 10?"

Dr. Tiddlywink looked up from his notes amused. "Did you?" he inquired while writing on his notepad.

Draco, somewhat forgetting that he didn't want to be there, continued. "Yeah, I had a bear called Hasta-something-or-another…" he said while waving his hands carelessly in the air, forming the outline of that bear, "that was till my father had me practice a fire-casting spell on all my childhood toys."

Tiddlywink continued to take notes. "Do you miss your childhood things?"

His patient was snapped back into reality. He scoffed and looked at his psychiatrist with mild disgust. "Hardly. How much do you make for regurgitating this drivel? Honestly."

The psychiatrist breathed deep and sighed. "You brought it up." He looked at his patient with sympathy. "Look, what is said between us stays between us. I'm not to tell your father any of this without your consent, so you can talk all you want and the furthest it'll go is my notebook."

Draco looked at him with a bit of new trust for him. "Fine. It was a year before I started at Hogwarts. I was a child… then."

"You're not anymore."

"I can't afford to be."

"Why do you feel that way?"

He didn't reply, but suddenly became very interested in the crackling fire that grew brighter by the minute.

"Is it trouble at school?"

Draco laughed, still gazing at the fire. "My housemates adore me."

Dr. Tiddlywink gave a disbelieving snort. "Mm hmm… continue."

His patient just glared in return.

"Honestly now, are you perhaps having girl troubles?"

No reply.

"Boy troubles?"

A dark glare answered his question.

"I'll assume we'll stick to girls."

Draco scoffed. "How observant."

His psychiatrist stretched out his long arms. Draco noticed that as soon as his jacket and shirt got pushed back to about mid-arm, a tattoo of some sort began to show. Dr. Tiddlywink, noticing that Draco was staring intently at his arm, drew back as quickly as possible, and pulled his sleeves down hastily.

"You know, Drake, I too had girl troubles when I was at school."

"No doubt. With a pick up line like 'Hi. I'm Fitzherbert Tiddlywink. I can wink your tiddly' I can see the failing."

"Why do you feel the need to mock someone's name sake?"

"Maybe because I can. Because I am Draco Malfoy and not your new little simple-minded playmate named Drake."

There was a slight pause.

The psychiatrist sighed. "I hadn't noticed."

"Do. For once, just do."

"You don't want to be here, do you, uh, Draco?"

Draco smirked. "My, but you are insightful. A diviner maybe?"

Dr. Tiddlywink continued again as if he hadn't heard his patient. He quickly flipped through a few notes and read them for a bit. He looked up at his patient again. "You know that I'm to see you again…"

"Oh great, shall I bring some butterbeer and fizzing whizbees so we can have a real party next time?"

"… to evaluate your progress…"

"Delightful. I'm so excited," he replied in a flat tone.

"You have a lot pent up in you Draco, you need a forum of release. Something I doubt you'll get from council at home."

There was silence between the two. Draco disliked highly the look of mock sympathy the psychiatrist was giving him.

"I have an idea that might help." Tiddlywink said as he fished a leather bound book from underneath his chair. 

Draco eyed the book suspiciously.

"A bit of light reading? Harlequin romance maybe… "they met across the quidditch pitch" star-crossed lovers and all that rot."

Tiddlywink shook his head.

"Not really. This is a diary. I want you to write in it. It doesn't have to be daily, just at times when you most feel the need to be heard. It doesn't matter what you put in it, although, you can skip the bits about the time you over-tweezed your eyebrows. And since you can't break down that wall to reach me, try reaching yourself, and you might just be surprised at what type of person you are."

Draco snorted. "A _diary_?"

"Yes, Draco." Tiddlywink handed him the blank book.

"How…sentimental." He said as he pawed the leather cover.

"It's worked for greater wizards than you Draco." And with that, Tiddlywink got up, moved over to his desk and began to write.

"I'm sure. Is this all? Can I leave now? Have to run and tell dadums about your miracle cure and all."

"Yes, I suppose we're done…for now."

Draco stared at the book for a moment longer. "No, really, how much do you get paid for this?"

"That will be all." Tiddlywink said with a tone of finality in his voice.

With a nod, Draco got up and walked towards the door, diary in hand. With one final look at the dimly lit room and the back of the man who had put up with him for the past hour, he turned the door handle and left.

**********

Authors note: and that folks… is the first of many chapters of my first fic ever! Nyah. I collect quotes and ideas like a pack rat, and this chapter, and many future chapters will be inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dark Angel, Cowboy Bebop, Coronation Street, Bridget Jones' Diary, Waking Life and the novels "Lost Between Houses" By David Gilmore, "Illusion" by Paula Volsky and "The Beast that was Max" by Gerard Houarner. And oh, yeah, the Harry Potter books. Yeah. As if you didn't know that.

Thank You: So yes, the lovely 'thank-yous'. First of all, I'd like to give thanks to the best beta-readers in the whole entire world. Here is a list of them all in order of offering/begging from me: Nicki, Val, Laura, Adi, Vanessa and Kayli. First, my two buddies Nicki and Val. I made them beta-read this for me, and they did it willingly. The ending was mainly created by the talented Val, and also by the not-so-talented (eh eh, I jest!!) Nicki. They helped to make my first chapter end on a good note, as opposed to a random one. Kudos to Val (again) for also pointing out some mistakes (what was I thinking about the Fleur thing?) Next, is my fellow HP school buddy, Tien. Tien Tien thought it was actually good, and she taunts my other friends with my fic. These three people were the only ones who knew about it for the past 6 months that it was written and have kept their word by keeping it a secret. I know it was stretching it when the chapter was created over 6 months, but it's all been worth it! Thank you guys! Laura, because she's so sweet in offering (instead of me begging) if she could beta my chapter for. Adi gave her help willingly, and I couldn't be happier! I blushed many shades of pink/red when you told me that you thought my chapter was amazing. I'm truly touched. You rock. Although, our live beta didn't really turn out to be a live beta for long… long live fandom bitching! Vanessa replied to my call of a last beta and did a great job! Kayli was the _final_ one. She offered while we were waiting for a bus, and I trust her judgement of my fic like I would trust her with my life. Besides, she's as twisted as me, so can easily relate to all the evil things I will be doing to the characters! Lasair pointed out to me that Gabrielle wouldn't work, and I give her full credit for Françoise, as she came up with the name and the idea to have an OC character. And a really, really, _really _special mention to Kira, who has probably made my head swell to the size of the planet with the feedback (and a bit of fangirling! :P) she's given my chapter. She's made me blush more times in a week than I have in my entire life. Well, this was a rather long thank you bit, and it will most likely be more story, less lengthy thank you next time!

**Next Chapter: **Harry has mood swings and smokes like twenty chimneys, Ron gets twitchy, Hermione fazes out in a pet shop and alleyway, the trio get their fortunes told, Draco gets slapped more than once, and Lucius gets twitchy himself and takes it out on Fitzherbert!


	2. Chapter 2

**Draco**** Malfoy and the point of no-return**

**Chapter 2: **

**Slammed Against The Concrete Wall__**

_Previously in "Draco Malfoy and the Point of No Return":_

_The dream is constant. The same death. The same love. The same feeling of remorse._

_He'd always wake up with a sudden jolt. And the dream was always the same. Never continuing, not even to drop hints._

_+++_

_Ginny Weasley woke up early before the rest of the world was awake, on Christmas morning. She had the same nightmare that she has had since her first year at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle was all she could think of. He plagued her mind._

_She needed to escape any reminder. So she left that summer, for a Beauxbatons exchange. Things had to change._

_+++_

_"You're my best friend Harry, I'm not going to let you drown yourself in sorrow. You're hurting, I can tell. But you won't tell us what's the matter, so can you just talk to me for a minute? Can you just try?"_

_Harry shrugged. "Hermione, it's not that I can't talk with you, it's just that I can't talk with anyone. Sometimes just being alone helps."_

_+++_

_"I had planned something wonderful but now today's plans are going to change _drastically_. You need help boy, help. You're mind is not here." Lucius pointed around the room. "I don't know what's wrong with you boy, but you are not acting as a Malfoy should!" _

_+++_

_"Something happened, and right now I don't think it has anything to do with Harry."_

_And she decided to herself that she would find out what it was._

_"There must be a way." Hermione thought lastly before stepping into the 'Magical Menagerie'._

_+++_

_"I have an idea that might help." Tiddlywink said as he fished a leather bound book from underneath his chair. _

_Draco__ eyed the book suspiciously._

_"A bit of light reading? __Harlequin__ romance maybe… __"they met across the quidditch pitch" star-crossed lovers and all that rot."_

_Tiddlywink__ shook his head._

_"Not really. This is a diary. I want you to write in it. It doesn't have to be daily, just at times when you most feel the need to be heard.__ It doesn't matter what you put in it, although, you can skip the bits about the time you over-tweezed your eyebrows. And since you can't break down that wall to reach me, try reaching yourself, and you might just be surprised at what type of person you are."_

_Draco__ snorted. "A diary?"_

_"Yes, Draco." Tiddlywink handed him the blank book._

_"How…sentimental." He said as he pawed the leather cover._

_"It's worked for greater wizards than you Draco." And w__ith that, Tiddlywink got up, moved over to his desk and began to write._

+++

Every so often Ron would cast sidelong glances toward his best friend Harry Potter, to see how he was acting. Observing how Harry's mood for once seemed to have swung for the better this time. Since Harry Hermione and himself had entered the Magical Menagerie a half hour earlier he'd been bubbly and active, behaving like a curious child playing with all the creatures in the shop. Harry wore a huge grin on his face, a grin that could hardly be classified as fake. But then not everyone was Harry Potter's best-friend, and sought deeper than appearances sake. Ron doubted privately, either meant that offish grin was genuine or Harry was a better actor than he'd ever given him credit for. 

Ron came to Harry's side, where he now kneeled, befriending some lowly creature.

"Oh, look at this one!" Harry exclaimed, "I think it really fancies me!" He tickled the chin of a black and white cat, which purred under his caress, rubbing itself against his open palm. "That's a good kitty! You do like Uncle Harry, don't you? Yes you do, yes you do!" he embellished, his voice adapting a rather silly tone. Harry ran his index-finger now down the cat's spine. The feline arched itself against the touch.  

Ron just chuckled. "_Uncle Harry? I think the fumes in here may be affecting you a little too much." Ron pulled Harry upright by the arm, "Come on, Harry. We've more useful things to do. Your niece or nephew will just have to stay here."_

Harry pouted. "_Fine Ron, if you're going to piss on my parade! Get your stuff, let's go then! Hermione!"_

Hermione, who had already acquired her cat tonic for Crookshanks ages ago, stood transfixed by a neighboring Snake for a while now, lost in thought. She nodded toward them, carefully noting that Harry had shifted gears, yet again, not seeming quite himself. Nothing as much as the darkness that plagued him a day earlier. It seemed that he was enjoying himself, which was a welcome change so she hadn't seen any harm in lingering in the shop, enjoying the surroundings. Letting her mind casually wander while watching the snake snore, occasionally swaying its tail. She wondered to herself (and privately the serpent,) _Harry can talk to you if he liked, __and you back to him. __I wonder if he'd be inclined to answer you more so than us._

"_Hermione! Come on! If you stare at that snake any longer, someone's liable to think you've been charmed to it! Come on, we still need to get our books!" That perked her curiosity the way he thought it would. Harry smiled cheerfully as he led the way out of the shop, followed closely by Ron then Hermione._

Harry's good mood hadn't been shattered as of yet, although Ron and Hermione seemed to still be doubtful. Harry slowed his pace to catch up his friends. 

Hermione pulled out a piece of paper from her shirt pocket and smiled as she checked off numerous tasks she had now completed.

"This is good," she said, "All I need now are some books for school, especially for the new 'History of Magic Class'. Professor Binns is teaching it, and he is–" But she was cut off suddenly by an energetic outburst of the raven haired boy.

"Hermione, I just remembered something so funny! Do you remember in fifth year when we were all in Professor Binns class and, oh bugger, what happened again? Ron, help me out here!" Harry said, still bubbly as ever.

Ron looked almost embarrassed. "Seriously, Harry, I really _do think the animal fumes went to your brain! You're barking! You're mad! Shut your trap before you go telling us that Hermione went on a date with Malfoy!" He laughed nervously, lightly patting Harry on the back._

"I'll remember it, I will! And when I do, you'll all be on the floor, laughing like we did that day." Harry said, tapping his head with his index finger.

Hermione looked quizzical. "I really don't remember Harry. Sorry. But I bet it was really funny!"

There was now complete silence between the trio. Whether they were deep in though to what Harry was ranting about, or if they were just at a loss for words, as they have been towards one another a lot recently, one could not tell. The tension between them could be cut with even the dullest of knives.

Harry pulled his cigarette pack out of his breast pocket. Turning it over in his palm, but nothing was left.   
  


"Bloody hell. Never realized I smoked _that_ much! I need another pack!"

Hermione sighed. "Fine, but _after school books. You shouldn't stink yourself up before you go into Flourish and Blotts."_

"Of course not," Ron imparted, "Wouldn't want to build a reputation as the 'The Boy Who Reeked', now do you?"  
  
Harry chuckled briefly. "I suppose not. Fine," He smiled in Hermione's direction. "We'll get the education stuff before the addiction stuff! I can deal." She nervously smiled back. 

They entered Flourish and Blotts, retaining their required books quickly enough. And yet Harry lingered, finding something of particular interest. He waved his friends ahead, assuring them he'd catch up soon.

Begrudgingly Ron and Hermione went outside, simultaneously dropping their bags and sliding down the wall. There was a lengthy silence before Hermione finally spoke.

"Ron?"

"Mm hm?"

"I was thinking a bit about what Harry was saying."

"What? The fact that he ran out of cigarettes?"

Hermione poked Ron's arm.

"You bloody well know what I mean. I was thinking about when he was talking about our 5th year, and I realized something, I don't remember _anything_ that happened that year. Disturbing, isn't it?"

Ron shifted around a bit.

"Yeah, real…disturbing. But come on Hermione, you can't mean that you literally don't remember anything from last year, can you?"

"I mean it Ron. It's really odd. Why can't I even remember arriving at Hogwarts that year, or even leaving it? It was as if we had our 4th year, skipped our 5th and are now directly going into our 6th. I'm confused. Ron, _why _can't I remember anything_?_"

"Oh, for the love of... Hermione, calm yourself. This must be the heat talking. I'm sure when we get back to a nice, cool room, it'll all come rolling back to you. So stop worrying, alright?" Ron was now trying to get Hermione to change the subject.

She sighed.

"I supposed you're right. Oh, look, there's Harry!"

As Harry emerged they both climbed to their feet. Harry came out of Flourish and Blotts waving a small bag in hand. He smiled, "I got this _great_ book! It's called 'The History of Powers Lost'! It's really quite neat. Anyway, let's get going. I might buy another book if you aren't careful!" He laughed and led his friends down Diagon Alley once again.

After walking for what seemed like hours, the best friends lingered a moment, catching their collective breath.   
  


"What now? We've bought everything we need, and seen everything there is to see, what's left?" Ron inquired. Just as Harry opened his mouth to suggest something, his attention was draw to the stranger tugging at his trouser leg. He looked down, catching sight of an elderly woman, hunched in the shadows with a crocheted blanket over her lap.

"Boy," she began, "let me tell your fortune."

**********

Upon exiting the doctor's office, Draco was set upon by his ever watchful father, Lucius Malfoy.

"I trust 'we' were civil?" He started in a low and earmarking voice," Fitzherbert is the best there is in all of England. Rebellious as you may tend to be from time to time, I trust you at least kept that fact in mind. We must respect our elders, Draco. Lest they'll be _consequences." He hissed low so as not attract any unwanted attention._

Draco glared lazily at him. "So you keep telling me. However, I do believe that Fitzherbert-"

"Dr. Tiddlywink, boy! Have you no manners?"

"- Dr. Tiddlywink, elder he may be, but he was hardly so fragile. Come on Father, do tell your son. Let's have a bonding moment, as I believe the good doctor wants us to do. Are you seriously scared that I would _insult the 'best in the country'? Or are you more afraid of what family secrets I may have divulged?" Draco smirked, gouging a reaction from father._

"I am not afraid boy, I am never afraid," his father smirked back, implying that this fact should be well known, "There was once an American who said, "So of cheerfulness, or a good temper, the more it is spent, the more it remains." He waited for these words to sink in before continuing, "What I am trying to say boy, is that if you don't wise up soon, you may well lose that undeniable spark that remains symbolic of a Malfoy. Appearing foolish towards someone as notable as our Doctor Fitzherbert, puts a noticeable blemish on this so-called spark. You hear me boy? _Do you?"_

Draco yawned rather loudly. "Loud and clear, Father. Can we go now? I sense my migraine reoccurring." And with that, Draco brushed passed his father and went out of 'Witchdoctor's Goods'. 

At first Draco had just been facetious about the ailment, yet as he emerged there was indeed an odd sensation swelling through his head. Not so much painful... At first he told himself it was the heat, but with each step he took the sensation grew, till it could only be described as something wholly uncomfortable, hardly even describable. As if he were walking through molasses with an anvil dropping on his head over and over again. Draco strove forward, without bothering to see if his parents were following, not that he cared at the moment. He wanted to get away from them. He suddenly needed to breathe a chance to evaluate why he was suddenly feeling so odd.

Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a voice repeated internally, _"You're a mess. You always will be. It's in your blood. You are going to carry that weight."_

Draco stopped, rubbing his temples harder, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Everything was calm for a moment before his vision began to go a bit blurry. He blinked furiously, willing it to dissipate, soon stars replaced the blurriness. They sparkled and shone in his eyes, and several flew by. He remembered nothing after that. Yet, he dreamt. He dreamt a dream so fantastically odd.

His dream self was walking around what seemed to be a tower on Hogwarts grounds, which one, he could not tell, for it was all in ruins. Gaping holes were cracked through rounded walls, house banners shredded and littering the floor. Draco walked toward the remains of a spiraling staircase. He ascended, noting where blood seemed to be lining the walls. As he reached the top, he felt a strong breeze take him. Quickly he realized the roof had been completely taken off. Draco's dream self walked to the very edge, picking up a stone and throwing it over, as if testing the depth. He waited nearly almost a minute before he heard a loud, echoing 'ploink' from below. As his searching eyes traveled the path the stone took. You didn't have to have a seekers sharps s to see from over the distance the Quidditch pitch had been severely burned. Not only the pitch, but many other parts of the campus had been as well. Large chunks of grass were ripped out and visible from miles away. Several nearby towers still smoldered, some were even torn completely down. Draco inched nearer to the reminisces of the tower's edge, looking down to observe what more could have happened to the once beautiful castle. He swayed a bit, wavering his arms a bit to keep his balance.

"Careful, boy. You might kill yourself," a gentle voice said from afar. 

Draco turned to see from where the voice has emerged. As he turned he faced a woman. She certainly wasn't dressed for the present condition. The dress she wore was of rich bronze velvet, with a low scooping neckline. The voluminous sleeves came to her small wrists, flaring out at the end. The fold of her skirt splayed in the same manner, completely obscuring her feet, save for the tips of her gold coloured shoes. Her gown was trimmed with bits of gold, from sleeve ends to hem. Around her head she wore a diadem band made of a similar gold, in the centre hanging against her smooth forehead, a cluster of gold with a single red jewel in the middle. Her delicate hands were clasped together, making her collection of rings ever more noticeable. Her glistening brown hair was worn braided into two great loops (one on each side of her head) and one falling down the length of her back. 

"What happened here?" Draco asked, a little awestruck.

She smiled at him as if she recognized him.

She smiled, as if they were already on familiar terms. "I've been 'vaiting so long," she replied with a strong accent.

"So long for what? Where am I?" Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

"For you, I came for you."

Draco sighed, becoming more indignant by the second.

"Right, well, this is just great, isn't it? I am asleep, right? God, I hate being asleep." He mused, nearly entirely unto himself. "Seems every time I am, I keep getting these weird dreams. See? Right now is perfect example!" he declared. Fully aware he was beginning to rave, he indulged, after all it was his dream world. "Bloody hell, most normal people have dreams that actually make sense, occasional fromps with a witch in nothing but swimwear, or an all-access pass through Gringotts with an unlimited supply of chocolates, but do you think I would be one of them? No, bollocks to that! Why can't I just wake up and stop having these nonsensical dreams! It's just some big guessing game. A miserable puzzle with half of the pieces missing. I've had enough, I'm leaving, and I'm waking up right now."

Draco began to pinch himself in his irrational fury. When nothing happened, he started toward the spiraling staircase. As soon as he put one foot on the first step, the woman rested her hand on his right arm, silently preventing him from descending. 

"So, tell me about your dreams," she whispered in his ear.

"Why should I? Don't you find it a bit off that I should be telling you about my dreams when I am actually in one?"

 "Draco, 'ave these dreams been awful for you? 'Ave you told anyone about them?"

"Are you Violetta, by any chance?"

"'Vy 'vould you say that?"

"Because you sound just like her, the French accent and all. Plus you both wear medieval clothing. You both have the same demeanor."

She laughed airily, turning him around so that he was now looking straight at her. He bore into her eyes, her seemingly sad pale blue eyes. Looking him over, she carefully took in all the feature of his delicate face. As if the answer she sought were held somewhere within these features, in a similarly burrowing way that Fitzherbert had done. They even had the same eyes.

"What are you looking for?" asked Draco.

"You have those eyes. Those eyes that I've looked into before. Those eyes that had showed so much pain. Those eyes that reluctantly took the less traveled road in life."

"What do you mean by '_those' eyes? Although I can see how being cryptic is part of your forte, probably comes the outfit, but currently won't solve anything."_

She smirked softly, "and the same sarcastic tone of voice. You are exactly how he was."

"Exactly like 'whom'?" He pressed back, unwaveringly matching her stare. To which she merely smirked, her eyes maintaining that same distant sadness but divulging nothing more. Draco sighed, exasperated. Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but all I know is that I'm in one crazy dream. And there's this thing called lucid dreaming in which you can control what happens in your dream. So I am now controlling you. You will tell me who this 'he' is, and why the hell you have been looking for me."

She expelled a tired breath, casting her eyes toward her feet. "I can not help you, but I can tell you this, maybe you should think on what trouble your impatience is going to bring you in the end."  
  


Draco glared. "_Tell me," he growled.  
  
_

She looked back up at him with questions in her eyes, yet she gave him answers. "I sought you out because you carry 'vithin you a power. However, you have no 'vay of tapping into that power. 'Vat you need to find is a catalyst, a certain someone. And you will, because I know your destiny. I was sent to protect you, to give you this. It should help protect you in spirit, if not in body." With that she pulled a necklace from around her neck, a gold chain and a single pear shaped pendant. The pendant was the savage colour of blood, yet with in its centre it seemed as if it weren't solid at all, as if it contents swirled constantly, creating misty ripples. She gave the necklace over to Draco, who in return took it holding it extended before him.

"What is this?" he asked, studying the necklace.

"'Zat, boy, is my spirit," she said, smiling.

He scoffed as he wrapped the necklace in his hand.

"And what am I supposed to do with _this_?"

"vear it around your neck, I and it shall guide you and keep you safe."

"And how do I know that the necklace will still be with me after this dream?" he asked, reluctantly pulling the necklace around his neck.

"Draco, my dear, never underestimate 'ze power of dreams and 'ze influence over the human spirit. You will be surprised to know what can be accomplished if you put a little faith in the unknown."

Draco looked down and studied the long chain, and it's magical glistening pendant, it's contents continuing to swish and swirl around. He looked back toward the woman as she herself descended the stairwell. Draco quickly reached out to grab her by the arm.

"Wait!" he demanded, "What's your name?"

She smiled sadly up at him, gently cupping his chin in her delicate hand.

"Are you ready?" she said.  
  


Suddenly everything faded. Draco awoke to find his mother bending over him. His father loomed near, looking down with a look of disgust on his face. Draco winced a bit as he felt a lump that was beginning to form on the back of his head. Mentally, he checked himself, searching if there was anything else he'd suffered from this episode. Nothing broken, nothing torn, but as his hand passed briefly over his color he remembered himself, remembered the necklace given and noted that dream self or not, it was in fact there. He gulped a bit as his mother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, my dear! I was so worried, I wasn't sure what happened! You were walking then all of a sudden you fell over! Don't do that ever again! Oh, my dear!" Narcissa wept a bit.

"I'm alright mum, I swear. Just the heat, that's all." Draco patted his mother's back comfortingly. Lucius still loomed near, looking none to pleased.

"Get up, boy. Honestly you look like a loon, seated on the floor collecting dust on your new clothes. Get up before people start laughing at your stupidity. I can't believe a _Malfoy would faint over the heat. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."_

In order to demonstrate his embarrassment further, Lucius stormed off, leaving his family to catch up after him. 

"Mum," Draco said while looking in his father's direction.

"Yes, dear?" 

"Tell Dadums that I've gone to get a quick drink. I will meet you back at the Leaky Cauldron floo networks."

"Are you sure you aren't going to have another heat fit, darling?" Narcissa began to feel Draco's forehead and cheeks for fever, then affectionately, holding his hand between her own. "You look a little shaky…I think it will be better if you-"

 "Mum. I. Will. Be. Fine," Draco said. His mother sighed and let go of her son's hand. She watched him disappear in the crowds before turning around and running to catch up to her husband.

**********

"Please boy," she pleaded, "let me tell your fortune."

Ron looked at her, surprised.

"Sorry Miss, we've no money, you see we just came from shopping for school and--" The old lady silenced him with a smile letting the trio catch a savory glimpse at her silver tooth.

"It does not matter boy, I will tell _all your fortunes. Here, come with me," she hoisted herself up, grabbing a cane from nowhere, leading them through a dark alleyway. Finally they came to a room at the end, doorway curtained with beads. The three of them barely fit in the alcove provided._

"You, with the red hair," the woman started, pointing a crooked finger at Ron, "come with me first. The others stay out here. Your future is your problem, not everyone else's," and with that she pulled Ron by the wrist through the curtain.

"You, with the red hair," the lady said, pointing an old, crooked finger at Ron, "come with me first. The others will stay here. What is to be said to each of you will only be said to you. Your future is your problem, not everyone else's," and with that she pulled Ron by the wrist through the curtain.

"I don't like this at all. I bet she's a fake." Hermione said, trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"Yeah," said Harry lighting up a new cigarette, "but it will be a laugh anyway".

"Oh and you boy! The one with the glasses! This is a no smoking area! I do not want your toxic fumes to disturb the divine," cried the lady.

Harry frowned and looked at Hermione. "I'll just be outside. Come get me when she's ready to tell my _future_."

"Your fake future," Hermione muttered cynically, but was certain he didn't hear, because he walked out as soon as he finished his sentence.

Hermione was left all alone, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in the dark room. She crossed her arms and slid down the wall, and waited, patiently.

**********

The old lady pointed toward a seat. "Sit and stay awhile, I've got much to say to you," she smiled greedily. Ron sat down and shifting uncomfortably in the chair. The old lady wentbehind a nearby screen which was opposite Ron; all was silent for a few minutes before she returned and began.

"Do not fear death, boy, for death is always at your side. When you show fear, it will spring at you faster than light, but if you do not show fear, it will only gently pass over you."

Ron looked at her with fear in his eyes, "I'm not going to die, am I?"

He could see the old lady's silver tooth glimmer in the dark, "Future is uncertain boy, you know that as I well as I do. All organisms, all beings with life all have their own stars. The moment a new life is born, a new star is born, and it becomes the guardian star. The star we stand on is someone's guardian star as well. That red star, that blue star, and when a life ends, the star falls and disappears."

Ron choked a bit, "Please don't say that. It's too cryptic."

The old lady bore her dark eyes into Ron's large brown ones. "His star is about to fall, and if you don't tell them what happened, it will be too late."

"Who is _he_? This is stupid, I can't believe it," and Ron began to get up, but something restrained him from actually leaving.

"You know of whom I speak. You know what you did. _I_ know what you did. But I won't tell him. You're the guardian of his star, and therefore it's your job to protect it, and not to betray its trust."

Ron just stared at her again. How _did_ she know? How _could_ she know? It was impossible, since he hadn't told _anybody_ what happened.

The old lady bowed her head. "You may leave now. Bring the other boy in. I have much to tell him. But don't worry; it will just be our secret. But remember, you have a responsibility. Don't let that star shoot away."

**********

Ron hurried from the room as soon as possible, at first thinking his friends had left him alone, before he nearly stumbled over Hermione seated alone in the corner.

"Er… Hermione… Where's our Harry?"

"He's gone for a smoke, but I didn't think he was going to be _this long. You'd think he'd be a chimney at this rate. Do you want me to go get him?"_

Ron chuckled a bit nervously, "Sure, tell him that Madame Loony is waiting for him."

Hermione smiled back, feeling less annoyed with the whole fortune telling ordeal. "Sure."  
Collecting herself, Hermione ran outside, hoping she'd find Harry immediately, maybe even talk to him for a bit. She soon realized Harry had indeed veered off further than just the alley. In fact he was nowhere to be found.

"Harry?" she called out, "Harry, where are you?"

Quickly a dark head of messy hair poked out from the doorway of a nearby store. "Sorry, needed more ciggies," he said, smiling some more.

"Well, get in there you. Ron says, 'Madame Loony, is waiting for you'," Hermione replied.

Harry strutted past Hermione. "This way, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, "This way."

Harry marched passed Ron and nodded briefly at him, "Wish me luck eh?"

"Good luck," Ron replied, with a look of panic still on his face.

**********

Harry pushed passed the beaded curtain. "Hello? Madame L-- Uhm, Miss, Where are you?" he called out.

"Over here boy. Sit on this seat now. I've been meaning to talk to you for some time, but realized that the planet's alignments would not be accurate until this time. It fortunate, very fortunate indeed you came to me today, so that I could tell you this," the old lady said.

"Tell me what?" asked Harry.

The old lady smiled as if she knew Harry was going to say that. However, she frowned, making her smile disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

"I wished to warn you, stop chasing your past. You'll be throwing your life away by doing that." Suddenly she smiled a rather crooked smile. "But," she continued, "I'm sure you know my warning on this accord is useless here. You will continue to chase it, but you'll believe it o that you might live, not die. You believe you are living a dream that you cannot wake up from, and therefore have come to the conclusion that as the dream progresses, your life regresses. And you know that there is only one person who can kill you. However, know that you can return those words to that person. Know that you have the power to do that. But also know that this," and she reached a long, pale, crooked finger out to touch Harry's floppy hair. She pushed some aside with it to reveal his scar, "can either be your success", she drew her finger up the scar, "Or your failure", and then drew her finger down it again. She pulled back her finger and clasped her hands together. "You are going to carry that weight. You always will until you face up to it and say 'wake up'. However, know that the weight is not all on you. You will be forever protected, but not always untouchable."

Harry was in complete shock, unknowingly mirroring Ron's horror-stricken expression held in this same seat, in this same manner only minutes before. "You shouldn't talk about things you don't understand." Harry snapped indignantly, "You don't know anything about my past. I'm not chasing it; I'm living for now, the present. I'm not chasing anything," he growled at her.

"Just remember that you're always going to carry that weight. The weight of the world. You can't help it, it's just who you are, boy," she bent her head a little more, not looking at him, "You may go now."

Harry had never wanted to get more out of a place as he had then.

***

"Harry," Hermione inquired, "What's wrong?"

"She just freaked me out, that's all," Harry said panting a bit, "I believe it's your turn to feel as if you've seen a ghost."

Hermione looked at Harry with a quizzical look before pushing passed the beaded curtains just as the other boys did.

"Hello? Where are you?" Hermione asked just as Harry had moments earlier.

"Ah, now I know now. You, you're the girl who is going to end it all."

Hermione jumped at the voice and began to search for a seat in the dark, found it, and sat down.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shifting a bit in order to get comfortable. 

"Love is a funny thing, isn't it? It can either bring you great joy, or great sorrow. You will experience both." The old lady said, cocking her head to one side.

"That's all very nice, but what exactly is it that I'm going to end?"

The elderly witch smiled, "You are going to help the seeker discover what he lacks most of."

Hermione's heart immediately jumped at the thought of Harry, once again needing her help. "What am I helping Harry discover?"

The old lady laughed a loud, hollow laugh. "Often think of your friends first, do you? Before yourself even? The person, who needs your help most, you do not have value enough for them in your eyes. They may seem ... unfeeling, but at present they're looking for a way out. If they continue so unknowingly, they're sure to suffer huge consequences for these measures. In fact, you'll both suffer great pains and joys. But in the end it is you who shall think it only a dream. What you are going to end girl, is the dream everyone chooses to float around in. You are the one that is going to say 'wake up', and they are going to listen. I told your other friend this, but do not be afraid of death, for it is always at your side. Also, all things with life have their own stars, and it becomes the guardian of a new star, but that original star is also protected by a guardian star as well. We are all looking after each other's stars. And when a life ends, the star falls and disappears. "Whose star is about to fall?"

The old lady bowed her head.

"That is a path still undecided, I had surely thought it was only one, but seeing you, and knowing what lay ahead, it seems as if there will be more than one star falling."

Hermione frowned, not knowing exactly what to make of what she was hearing.

 "I'm sorry, but you aren't making much sense right now. Would you tell me whose star is falling? I need to know how I can prevent that from happening."

"Always helping your friends out, aren't you? Always at their sides whenever someone needs a helping hand. That will benefit you in the end, but not the way you think it will. You may go now. Tell your other friends thank you, because everything is clearer now, because life is a dream you know, it's never ending, and my dream has ended, I have woken up, and now I am living, and filling my purpose."

Hermione choked on the air she was breathing. 

"I-I have to go. Th-Thank you for that… I-I have to go.."

Hermione looked around nervously before standing so suddenly, knocking her chair over. Hermione rushed to right the chair only to find it had already been set right. Hermione looked back to the old woman, only to find that she was alone. The woman had vanished, as if she'd never been there. This scared Hermione even more and in her shock, she knocked over the chair again, not even bothering to pick it up this time. She sprinted down the hall with all her energy, but it was as if the hall was never ending. She was running down an endless black tunnel. She stopped, trying to catch her breath and reason this out. A blackness seemed to be closing in on her. Reaching out with both hands, Hermione tried to stop it coming at her. But, the blackness pushed her down, and she was falling downwards, for what seemed like hours. Finally, she hit the ground. She expected that it would be hard, but it was as if she had fallen on a bed of feathers. She rolled onto her right side and groaned. What was going on? Why was this happening to her? Feeling cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, and rolled onto her other side. She then saw Harry's face. It was blue, and his lips were purple. His eyes were unusually clear and green. He looked back at her widened brown eyes and smiled.  

"I'm going to do it," he said.

Hermione blinked.

"What?" She gasped, her voice suddenly sounding very fragile.

Harry sighed.

"I'm going to do it. Off the Quidditch field. I have a rope and everything."

"Harry, what are you talking about? A rope? What are you doing?"

This time he frowned.

"You're right, you've no idea, that's why you cannot stop me. This is the end Hermione, the end to all the suffering. You won't need to worry about me anymore. I'm going Hermione. Bye bye."

At this, he got up and starting walking. He dragging a rope beside him, which was tied intentionally into a loop, creating a noose. Hermione bolted upright bewildered. At last she got up and began to follow Harry.

"No, wait! Harry, wait! We can talk this out! There are people that can help you! Please."

Harry stopped and kept his back to her, and they stood like that for a few moments. The air became cooler, and Hermione could see her and Harry's breath clearly. Clouds of white, whispy air circled around them. Harry tensed his shoulders up and somehow managed to walk quickly behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

"You care for me, don't you, Hermione?" he asked.

"Well, of course Harry. But I don't see how this is relevant…"

"If you loved me, you would come with me. The loop is big enough for two of us."

Hermione gasped, realizing what he was talking about. 

"Oh _Harry_," she said, turning to embrace him, "Don't ever think about leaving me, don't, just don't." She began to cry. And surprisingly enough so did he. He seemed to shrink before her eyes, and become the eleven-year-old boy that she once knew. He looked up at her with sad eyes.

"Protect me, Hermione, protect me."

She looked down at him and smiled.

"How could I not, Harry Potter?"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Hermione, wake up, wake up Hermione, wake up!" the young Harry cried before disappearing before her. The blackness faded away. Soon, she was face to face with the present Harry fanning her. As soon as she blinked and squirmed when he went to give her mouth-to-mouth support, he drew back and smiled.

"Thank god! You had us all worried! I didn't even smoke once I was so scared!"

"Yeah, Harry didn't even light up once, he was that scared!" Ron smirked from above.

"Uh, that's, uh, that's, er, nice Harry. Help me up, please?" Hermione said wincing. She may have landed in a bed of feathers in her dream, but she sure hit something hard in reality. Harry hefted her up to her feet in one swift motion. Hermione staggered a bit, head rushed, Harry, as if on cue, caught her before she fell over.

"Not enough fawning attention? Want to go another fainting round?" he said, shaking a finger at her, "It was scary enough saving you the first time. Don't let it happen again!"  
  


Hermione clutched her head harder, striving to steady herself. "Why don't you guys get a head start," she suggested, "I'm just going to slow you down."   
  


Harry hesitantly skipped ahead before Ron could even say "sure" for the both of them. Very briefly Hermione locked eyes with Ron, silently glaring at him, searching out an answer to her unspoken accusations. In response, Ron's eyes widened in a slight panic, before he quickly hurried after Harry.

"What in heaven's name is going on?" Hermione mumbled to herself, as she watched the boys disappearing off into the distance, laughingly punching at one another. Her head still felt light, although suddenly heavy at the same time, with worry. What could the nearby future hold that would shake the three best friends so soundly after everything they'd been through together? Steadying herself by the walls solid surface, Hermione began to following slowly at first, then more determinedly after her friends toward whatever their fates may hold.

**********

"So, Miss 'Veasley," Madame Maxime began calmly, "'vhy 'is it you've decided to come to Beauxbatons, and 'vhy so very early?"  
  
Ginny snapped out of her daydream, fidgeting slightly in her seat. Ginny strained to recall the excuses she'd given her mother earlier. It was something along the lines of 'it'd be a shame to not take advantage of a whole different wizarding culture while still attending school. Also, where else would she be able to improve her French without being distracted by other studies? The two went hand in hand. Study, France. Done' Going early would provide her an opportunity to get the feel of the city before the beginning of term. 

She explained this to the headmistress, hoping she bought that made up excuse. Besides, she couldn't very well say that the real reason was that she wanted to escape the feel throughout Hogwarts, the relative ghost of the boy once called Tom Riddle, who would be a dark lord. She feared, that like the general public at Hogwarts, the people at Beauxbatons would treat her differently if they knew about her association with him. The sound of Madame Maxime's strong booming French accent snapped Ginny once again out of her thoughts.

"'Zat is a very nice ting to 'ear, Miss 'Veasley. Most of 'ze time, 've get boys 'oo just say 'zat 'zey 'vanted to see 'zee pretty ladies. Or girls 'oo say 'zat 'zey 'ave run away from 'ome."

"Really?" Ginny laughed politely. "Oh, why thank you, Madame Maxime."

The large woman then got up and stretched out her hand. Ginny did likewise and was then pulled into a bone-crushing handshake. She tried her best not to wince, and also tried her best to force a smile.

"'Vell, I can say, Miss 'Veasley," Madame Maxime said while continuing the handshake, "'zat you 'vill be a nice addition to Beauxbatons!"

**********

The Malfoy boy stopped at a nearby pub and sat down to have a nice long swig of butterbeer. After finishing half the contents of the glass in one gulp, he put it down, gripping at his head again. A bump formed and seemed to enjoy causing pain at the most inopportune times. Placing an elbow on the bar table for support, Draco took a moment to indulge wincing in the pain. The barman came over to see inquire on what was wrong.  
  


"Lady troubles, m'boy?" he said while cleaning a pint glass.

Draco looked up at him wearily. "More like I fell down and knocked the crap out of me troubles."

The barman laughed.

"Oh, m'boy! You just reminded me of me when I was your age. A lady friend at that time and I, well we just had quite the row, you know, and she gave me quite the bump on the head, you know. And I told her she was a scaring me. And you know what she said to me?"

Draco stared down at his newly refilled pint of butterbeer. "What?"

"She said to me; Jonathan Masbeth, _he who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life!" _

The boy furrowed his brow at this. What the heck was that supposed to mean. "Let me take a guess here. Do you, by any chance, know Fitzherbert Tiddlywink?"   
  


The barman's expression blanked, as if he suddenly killed the barman's mother.  Nearly dropping the pint-glass he's cleaned a number of times by now, he continued slowly "He's just a legend, m'boy. Well, he existed once. He's a gone now, m'boy. Dead and gone to a better place now, m'boy."

Draco scrunched his face up in confusion. 

"But, see here barman, Fitzherbert Tiddlywink is my psychiatrist. I just saw him this-"

"Look, m'boy, maybe you've had enough to drink for today. It's been nice chatting with you, but I have to get to customers. Yes, that's right. Have a nice day, m'boy," said the barman nervously. It was obvious that Draco was the only person in the small pub, but he had no time to point that out, as the barman disappeared before he could even pay for his drink.   
  


The barman made it clear he had no intention of returning. Normally Draco would be compelled to leave with out so much as motioning for a cheque when a service person was being so impudent. He left a few coins as he made for the exit, obviously his head injuring was having a greater side effect than he had first suspected. 

Leaving the nearby pub in a rush, Draco restrained himself from entertaining anymore charitable ideals, like a tip of some sort. Now was a time to makes some semblance of reason from the day's occurrence. Staring back at the little hole in the wall pub, which had now all its blinds and a 'closed' sign planted on the door mere seconds after he left, he sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. So began his walk back to the Leaky Cauldron.

**********

The trio, still in the midst of their revelry, denying the unnerving effect of the fortuneteller's insights, was too distracted to notice where they were stepping.**_ They were so engrossed in their thoughts, that they hadn't notice who they had bumped into on their way to the wall leading out of Diagon Alley.   
  
_**

"Miserable miscreants, watch where you're going!" growled a familiar voice. The familiarity was enough to get the friends attention. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my fellow classmates," drawled the same, familiar voice.   
  


The trio turned simultaneously to see where the voice came from. Snarls, and sneers catered specifically toward Malfoy's, one Malfoy stood before them specifically.

"Malfoy," Harry said, in way of an apology, with a polite jerk to his head.

Draco made a clucking noise with his tongue.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Taken up a new habit, I see. As if mudblood befriending wasn't enough, you had to go take up _smoking_. Tsk, tsk, Potter, what _are_ we going to do with you? You know, I could report you to the ministry, seeing as how my father works for it, for underage smoking," he said, smirking.

Harry looked at Draco, bewildered, with his mouth hung open. A fair amount of ashes had collected on the end of his cigarette. He gulped a bit, sending the ashes to tumble down and land on his worn-out trainers. Finally realizing that he still had the cigarette in his mouth, he spat it out quickly and crushed it under his heel. He looked up to see Draco looking slightly amused.

"Oh, Potter, didn't your mummy _ever_ tell you that nice boys don't spit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gritting his teeth slightly, Harry was preparing a rather snarky response when Ron got there before him. "So that's how you play your game Malfoy? Thinking that the best way to insult Harry is to start with his parents? Pathetic really, because well all know how jealous you really were of them. How Lily and James will always be better than your parents, no matter what. How you were jealous of their goodness, of their greatness. It seems that by insulting them, you're convincing yourself that they are somehow 'bad'". Ron held himself up triumphantly, believing he had finally defeated Malfoy.

"Weasel, you don't know me at _all_, do you? It takes more than a little insult to get me angry. Now I'm just amused. Why don't you run along, Weasel, before I-"

"Malfoy, what've you got there?" Hermione blurted out.

Draco, remembering that he had it tucked under his hand. He gripped it harder; somehow thinking that would make it invisible. 

"Hermione…" Ron muttered at her under his breath, "What are you going on about?"

"None of your bloody business, _mudblood_," he spat as he clutched the diary harder and harder with every word he spoke.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "No really Malfoy, what _is _that book? Some Dark Arts spell book? Trying to show off to people your "abilities"? Trying to make people believe for fifteen minutes that you are _better_ than Harry? Trying to make your last two years count?" She looked livid. In response, Draco blinked in amazement.

"Hermione," muttered Ron again, "quit while you're ahead! This is useless"

Yet again, he was ignored.

_"Granger, you've some nerve to talk to me like that. I've enough knowledge __and the power to take __all of you out, single-handedly. So spare yourself the pain, and me the time wasted, and stay out of my way. Besides, one more word from you, and your little smoking buddy will hear from the ministry. They won't like it that the 'Boy who Lived' is now 'Boy who loves Cancer'," there, Draco thought to himself, that'll get the brats to bugger off.   
  
_

However, much to his surprise, it wasn't Harry but Hermione who first responded, slapping him hard across the face. The sound resounded throughout all of Diagon Alley, every witch and wizard near seemed to turned in their direction.

Draco felt his cheek gingerly, feeling the warmth beneath his fingertips, as if he could still make out the imprint of her hand against his scorched flesh. His lips curled slightly as he glared in her direction.   
  


"You could have just said, 'bugger off Malfoy', but no. Second time now, Granger, you can't bare to keep your hands off me." With that Hermione sneered in response, expressing her unuttered distaste. "You're such a _hypocrite, Granger. So self-righteous, preaching peace and love, yet here you are. Face it, you're just as 'bad' as you say I am." Without waiting for a response, Draco pushed past all of them, making sure he gave Hermione an extra hard brush._

No one spoke until the Malfoy boy became a small, fair-haired dot in the distance. Both boys turned to faced the only girl in the group. Hermione blinked and frowned a bit. "Well," she started, attempting to smile, "that _was interesting… Oh come on! It's not like he wasn't asking for someone to slap some sense into him…" The boys just stared at her. "Honestly… Anyway, it's been a long day, let's go home."  
  
_

Placing herself between her two bewildered friends, she put her hands behind their backs and pushed them along to the end of Diagon Alley. She had never felt more humiliated in her life as she did now. Was she a hypocrite? _Did she have a penchant for physically abusing people? Was she actually copping a feeling? She cringed at the thought. She hadn't really wanted to slap Malfoy, but it just sort of __happened.  
  
_

As the walked through the hole created for them in the brick wall, she looked back, taking in all the odd and awful things that were now a part of Diagon Alley's memories. Walking towards the car, she silently vowed to herself to prove Malfoy wrong. She'd bring peace, she will bring love, and whatever makes someone happy. If she is copping any feeling, she's trying to cop a feeling of love.

**********

Draco Malfoy attempted to keep a clear mind as he headed home, striving not to linger too much on the ache in his head and the sting on his cheek. Flying home through floo networks wasn't helping the situation either. He stumbled a bit as he landed hard on his feet in the living room of his mansion.

_Great, he thought, __I should have just stayed at home. As he rubbed his head for the umpteenth time, he let out another groan. Narcissa heard this and ran to her son's side._

"Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed worriedly. "I _knew_ we should have taken you to a doctor! You are not well! Oh dear, oh dear!" Narcissa resumed her feeling of Draco's forehead, this time more frantically than before, as if a fever had hit her son double the force because she left him alone for a few minutes. Draco just pushed her hands away from him.

"I'll be fine, mum! I'll be fine as soon as you stop fondling my forehead as soon as you stop treating my head like it's some ripened fruit."

Narcissa glued her hands to her sides and turned beet red. "I-I was only trying to help."

The teenage boy rubbed the bump on the side of his head once again, which he now believed was growing because of the amount of stress that was building up inside of him. He let out an even larger groan.

"Yes, well, don't bother. I've had a rather crap day, and you hovering over me like as if I am about to die any moment adds to the heavy crap factor." 

Lucius, who all this time had been examining different bottles of wine, stopped what he was doing, turned sharply, and slapped his son hard across in the same spot that Hermione had hit him. Draco winced hard under the throbbing pain. He gripped a nearby table for support.

"What the bloody hell was that for, dear daddio?" Draco asked between gritted teeth.

"Do you e_ver _know when to _shut up_, boy? Even after you've had counseling, you still treat your mother like she is dirt under your shoe! Do you have anything to say to that?! Well?!" 

Draco removed his hand from his cheek and stared at his father with utmost disgust. "Yes. I've got three things to say. One, obviously, according to you, I don't know when to shut up, and since you seem to think you are the authority of the household, your judgement seems to be the only thing that really matters. Two, one day of counseling does not bring miracles, anyone in the right mind knows that. And three, it's not like you treat her any better. I bet you even get off on it."

Lucius raised the back of his hand into the air, but brought it back to himself before he struck Draco where the bump on his head was. The whole time, Narcissa had her hands covering her mouth. She now carefully brought them down to her side, moving to spoke to the two males in a quiet voice.

"Now you two," she said rather nervously, "Let's just get settled now, and I'll get the house elf to make a lovely, warm meal. How does that sound?" She waited for a response from them, but all they did was stare at each other like they were about to kill one another.

"Sounds good, _dear_."

"Right, I'll go and give orders then, shall I?"

"Don't bother yet, mum, I'm not hungry. I'll go. I've got more important things to do than have staring contests with my father."

So he rushed up to his room, diary in hand. Maybe Fitzherbert was right all along about writing in a diary when he needed to be heard. Having a day like he was, he needed to be heard right now.

**********

"Dr. Tiddlywink?" said the secretary as she silently entered the psychiatrist's workspace.

"Yes, Kayli, come in," he replied without moving.

"You know the man that came in today?"

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes, him."

"What about him?"

"Is he, was he, a, you know?"

"_Yes, __Kayli__, he was. Possibly still is."_

"And what does he want you to do with the boy?"

"You know as well as I do."

"But you quit ages ago, didn't you?

"How observant of you."

"What are you going to do about this?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't know."

"You'll do the right thing, I know you will. You always have."

"I've made more bad than good so far. Saying that I did the right thing is almost as if you still agree with what happened in the past."

"I was just saying-"

"Will that be all, Kayli?"

"Yes, Dr. Tiddlywink."

"I suppose you know where the door is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then leave please. I am a busy man."

"Yes, Fitzherbert."

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, Dr. Tiddlywink."

**********

Slamming the door behind him, Draco flung himself on his bed. It was the finest feather bed in all of England. He curled up in its softness, and pulled out his diary from under his shirt. He had put it there so that it could not accidentally fly away into the floo network if he only had it in his hand. Tracing his fingers over the groves and bumps on the leather cover, he cracked it open and flipped through the pages. All of them were blank, white and untainted. Its exterior looked so old, but inside, it was as if the paper was periodically replaced. 

He fished under his bed for a quill and ink. He had to sift through a lot of scrunched up papers, spell books and shoes before finding a rather dusty quill, and an almost empty bottle of ink. Blowing off the dust and stirring up the ink, he was all prepared to write. He placed the ink on the page and wrote the date, and the traditional 'Dear Diary', but there was one problem.

He didn't know what to write.

It was all up in his head. Every bit of suffering, every uncomfortable situation that he encountered today, it was all still fresh in his mind, but he did not know how to express himself.

_Damnet__, how do I start? Er, Dear Diary, today was a rather crap day. Here's what happened… __No, no, that's awful. Dear Diary, I hate my life, what about you? __No, no! What the bloody hell are you thinking Malfoy? The diary isn't going to talk back to you! Er, um… Dear Diary, First time writing, so this might be crap. __Well, that sums it up pretty well… It's still a shite start, though… Er, Dear Diary, here is a list of crap things that happened today. __Yes, yes, that sounds better. __Now my list… Er, Father's being an utter git, er, old schoolmates not much better, uh, passed out after having a counseling session, dreamt something weird, er, got slapped twice… Came home, writing this… Just generally screwing about, not happy, blah blah blah."_

He stood back for a moment and re-read what he just wrote. He scoffed at the diary and went back to write back one more thing.

"You know how some people are diary people? And are suited to them? I don't think I'm a diary person."

Slamming the book shut, he held it in front of him and stared at his for a few moments before throwing it hard against the wall opposite of him, watching it slide down the wall, and finally landing on the floor, flipping open.

He let it sit there, letting it look sad and beaten. He smiled to himself, thinking "That is what Fitzherbert gets for having me try to 'open up'. Writing in a diary indeed."

Scoffing at it one last time, he opened his bedroom door and walked out, slamming the door behind him before descending the stairs for dinner.

**********

While the world slept, Hermione locked herself in the Weasley's bathroom. She stared at her complexion for what seemed like hours. She felt around her face for anything out of the ordinary, trying to see if something could indicate why she was feeling so odd. First she was forgetting things, now she was dreaming about Harry committing suicide off the Quidditch pitch. Were any of these things related? She definitely did not know. When she had talked to Ron earlier, something she said seemed to have triggered something. Was Ron _hiding _something from her? From all of them? She didn't think that Ron, one of her best friends, would keep anything from her. They had always trusted each other with anything and everything. 

When she had come out of her strange dream, and looked at Ron, it was as if she had said something wrong in her sleep, for the look in his eyes was nothing that she had ever seen before. His look was a mixture of horror, panic, and shock. Had she discovered something? Was Harry thinking about suicide, and only Ron knew? Hermione placed her face in her hands and sighed. She had never felt as lost as she did at this moment. She didn't know whom to turn too. Harry certainly didn't act as if he wanted to talk about anything deep, and Ron had avoided her since they arrived home. 

Silently exiting the bathroom, she peered into both boys' shared room. Ron was fast asleep and snoring, but Harry, he was gone. Surprised to find that she wasn't the only one up, she looked around frantically for him. She eventually found him outside, smoking.

"Harry," she began, "It's a bit late to be out, don't you think?"

He laughed a bit.

"I should say the same to you," he replied, flicking a cigarette butt out of his fingers.

Sitting down beside him, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up. But much to her surprise, Harry put an arm around her as well.

"Harry," she said again, "What's going on?"

He looked at her with such relief in his eyes that she thought he was going to cry. He hugged her as a result.

"Thank you," he said.

She hugged back.

"For what?"

"For having me not be the only one who goes around in circles all day. I've been so lost Hermione, _so_ lost. I'm happy one minute, and then depressed the next. I don't know what's happening to me."

"I don't remember anything, if that's any consolation."

Suddenly, he pushed her away. His hands were on her shoulders now, and he was staring at her intently. It put Hermione a bit ill at ease. Something about this position wasn't right.

"What did you just say?"

"I said that I don't remember anything. What's the matter, Harry? What is it?"

"Hermione, _what_ don't you remember?"

She laughed nervously and looked down at her pajama pants.

"All of fifth year. It's stupid, I know. I'm probably just really tired, you know."

"No," Harry said sternly, "no, it's not. Something happened to us, and I think I know what it is."

"What is it Harry? What do you know?"

And that's when she woke up.

She had never left the bathroom. She had fallen asleep against the cold floor. Exhausted from going around in circles, she began to cry. So she cried herself to sleep, like she had so many nights ago.

"I need to talk to you Harry, I need to know what's going on…" she would say over and over again in her sleep, words getting choked out by tears every once in awhile.

**********

_A week later. Malfoy Mansion._

It was like a ritual. Lucius Malfoy walking into his son's room, waking him up with the same militant tone of voice. Draco feeling the same feeling of annoyance from the moment he was forcefully awoken. Lucius constantly reminding him of the 'consequences' he would have to face if he didn't obey his father's orders. The same voice ringing in his head: _"You were always a mess, and you will be for the rest of you life, it's in your blood!"_ Yet he learned to ignore it. Even the little things were ritualistic. He would take his shower, and droplets of water would fall from his body, making more work for the house elves. He would pick out his clothes for the day, which were usually black. He'd have a small breakfast before going out the door with his parents to see Fitzherbert. Before they left, though, Draco picked up the sad-looking diary from the ground. Over a short period of a week, it had been hidden under piles of clothes and different books. It was so well hidden that it took him quite a while to locate it. Tucking it under his arm, he left. 

The ride to the Leaky Cauldron was a long one, and Draco would stare outside, watching the world go by. He saw a particularly interesting tree and traced the outline of it on the glass. His father, however, stopped this activity.

"Don't touch the glass boy!" He would say, "You'll get your dirty fingers all over it. And we just had the glass cleaned. We don't want to spend more money on cleaning it again just because you decide to soil it with your finger drawings!"

Draco didn't reply, but just sigh, and tap on the cover of his diary, which now sat in his lap. He closed his eyes, recalling what had happened in the past week. Life seemed so very normal up till that point. He had found nothing of interest to say to his family anymore, so he would keep quiet, unless it was to insult his father. It amused him when his father would turn red in the face. His mother, on the other hand, would do nothing. Draco hated hurting his mother, and hated watching his father do it even more. Yet, occasionally he found himself hurting his mother too, by his harsh words. That was one trait he unfortunately inherited from his father, verbal abuse he uses freely towards others, even if he doesn't mean to do it. It's as if his father sometimes controls his actions. However, it seemed as if he wasn't the only one. That blasted Granger girl enjoys as much abuse as he does, it seems. Draco could just tell she was building all the rage up inside of her for one good slap. What a sadist she is, he thought, and come the start of school she'll be preaching peace and love again, as if she is the definition of it all. It's the same with her simpering mates, that Potter and Weasley. They seem like such saints, but I know they all have something to hide. And I'll be the one to show everyone what they really are like. Draco smiled in satisfaction. All of a sudden, a appeared before him.

"Are you ready?" it said. Draco tried to focus his mind to figure out who was speaking to him. The face was definitely female. She smiled at him in recognition. "You still wear that necklace that I gave you?" She asked, looking down at his throat. "Yes," Draco said to this dream woman, "yes, I do. How the hell did I get it, anyway?"

Suddenly, the face changed into Fitzherbert's. "Are you ready?" the husky male drawling voice said. "What the?" Draco said, highly confused at this point. Fitzherbert's face faded into the lady's, and the lady's face faded into Fitzherbert's. Draco could even see resemblances at this point. "Why I am seeing two of you?" He scrunched his face up and tried running away, but everyone knows that in a dream, you can never go far.

The two faces separated and looked at him. They spoke at the same, "Are you ready, Draco Malfoy?" and they disappeared, leaving him in darkness. He opened his eyes, only to see that they had finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. 

He stepped out of the carriage before his father had a chance to shove him out. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the light. Looking at the faces of those around him, it was obvious that some of them, wizards only, knew who he was. They either bowed their heads in fear and intimidation, or they glared at him as if he was dirt under their shoes. As if by instinct, he clutched the diary closer to him, like a security blanket. He marched ahead of his parents to the 'Witchdoctor's Goods'. 

Looking behind him every once in awhile, he would see that his father and mother were deep in conversation about something. It was most likely him, Draco thought. What else would be so interesting to talk about? The only Malfoy child acting out of order by insulting his parents and having 'petty rage', as Tiddlywink likes to call it. He curled his lip at the thought. He _hated _having other people tell him how to act. It was like being a dog, being told he was bad if he had an accident in the house, or a bird told not to sing, feeling someone hit its cage in rage each time the bird dared to sing even one note.

The walk was never ending. Most of the time, Draco would get lost in his thoughts, and almost bump into things. He could almost hear his father sneering at him in the crowd. At long last, he arrived at the small business. He went in without waiting for the rest of his family.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" greeted the secretary with a fake, sugary smile. "Right on time! Dr. Tiddlywink will be with you in a moment."

Draco nodded in reply. The secretary looked around the empty room.

"A-Are your parents not coming?"

"Oh you bet they are. You know, dadums current obsession is to have a quick chat with doc before we head out, so that he can make sure I haven't been _too_ naughty."

The secretary actually laughed a bit.

"It's funny to see a Malfoy here, you know. The Malfoy's were always so perfect, you know, especially your father. He _never_ had problems. It's odd, because I've known your father from awhile back, so does Fitzherbert, and we always joked that since Lucius, your father, was so perfect that he would drive his son into imperfection. It was a silly little joke that seems to have come true."

Draco sat down across from the secretary and smirked. Obviously some poor people thought very highly of his father. 

"You say my father and Fitzherbert go back a long way? Did they go to school together?"

"Yes, they did. Both Hogwarts. Fitzherbert was a few years under Lucius, though."

"Fitzherbert doesn't seem the type to befriend my father. So how the hell did they become friends?"

A door opened and closed. The secretary put on a fake smile again.

"Oh, hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy! Now, Draco you should be heading into Dr. Tiddlywink's office. He will expecting you right now!"

A nod and a few steps later, Draco had entered the room that he entered not too long ago. Nothing had changed, not even Fitzherbert's chair, which he sat in now.

"Good morning, _Draco_," he said, drawling.

"Morning, shrink," Draco said before sitting in front of him. The psychiatrist seemed to only have one outfit. He wore the same soldier's jacket, the same white button down shirt, the same weathered pants, and the same Italian leather shoes.

"I see you haven't lost your tongue?"

"Not in a million years."

"Did we remember our diary today?"

Draco shifted a bit in his chair.

"Oh, that _thing,_ yes…"

"You sound unsure of it. Is there anything you want me to see?"

"That's where problems come up. You see, _shrink_, I'm not a diary kind of person. They don't agree with me. They give me indigestion. They make me feel all wobbly inside. They give me dia-"

"Thank you, Draco, but I think that's enough of an excuse for now. So if you would please, give me your diary, because it sounds as if you actually attempted it. You surprise me, because I thought you would actually forget it here."

Draco shoved the diary into Fitzherbert's hands.

"You underestimate my genius, Dr. Tiddlywink. I feel hurt and need more counseling. My father won't be happy to know that you damaged my ego," Draco said, faking a hurt demeanor.

Fitzherbert just snorted with amusement. 

"Good job, so far. Father being a git… Schoolmates not much better… Well, at least you're admitting it. Though, it seems as if the diary intimidates you. It seems you are scared to pour yourself into it. You must understand that the diary is _only_ a book. It can't bite, or talk back to you. You can trust me on the fact that only you, your diary and me will see what you are going through. I tell your mother and father nothing. I've probably said this before, but what goes in this room, stays in this room. I'm here to help you "discover yourself", or whatever tripe psychiatrists say these days. Draco, know that you can trust me. I've gone through a lot of the same things that you are going through, possibly worse. So you can't ever say that I don't know what's going on, because _I do_."

Draco simply blinked. How Fitzherbert's rambling went from his diary to the two of them sharing similar experiences, Draco did not know.

Fitzherbert took a long, deep breath and cracked open his notebook.

"So how is everything going Draco? How are things at home? Because your diary isn't providing any new insight, to say the least."

Draco wasn't listening. He suddenly found the crackling fire overly interesting, and all he heard was "Draco" and "Home", both of which he had trouble dealing with at the moment.

"I want out. I want to get out of all of, all of _this_," he finally muttered.

Fitzherbert raised his eyebrows. He wasn't expecting an answer like _that._ He started jotting down some notes in his book.

"When you say you want out of _this_, do you mean out of this world, or your present way of living?"

Draco had no clue what he wanted out of. _Did_ he want out this world, or how he was living? "I just want to knock on the right door. I want that door to open, and I want all the answers to be there.

Fitzherbert sighed. "Maybe you have to knock a little harder. People don't reach the right door right away, and some people never reach it at all. It all has to do with how this theatrical production called life plays out. Will the props people bring the door out, or are you going to be left there to mime it, and if you are miming it, does that allow you more freedom? Or are you just kidding yourself by playing out imaginary events that lie on the other side of that door? Will you ever come to the realization that there is no door, but just your mind playing a fantastical trick on you? Or are you forever doomed to just imagining your life's door, and having no say-"

"Wake up!" Draco yelled. "I'm the one that's supposed to faze out and talk deep nonsense, not you. God, if this is what I need to say in order to get a Ph.D, then I think I can skip College or University completely."

Fitzherbert smiled a warm, dreamy smile, despite Draco's attempts to insult him, and therefore back on the task that was _him._

"Sorry about that. Just an adult's idle muttering."

"I noticed. Now can we get back to my problems? I don't feel like learning the different kinds of doors.

"Right, sorry, again. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. Shall we try this again? You said you weren't comfortable at home. So tell me, Draco, why?"

Draco shivered a bit and sighed. "I honestly don't know if I can put it into words."

"I don't care if you speak gibberish, Draco. I just want you to get the facts across. My job is to help, not to ridicule."

The young boy looked at him, and what he looked at was trust. 

"Alright. Are you ready?"

"Lay it on me, and remember, Draco, that the significance of a man is not in what he attains, but rather what he longs to attain."

**********

"Well, Draco, all I can say is that I see a definite improvement already."

That entire hour, the two had shed tears of pain and laughter. And Draco was actually sad to leave Fitzherbert this time.

Exiting, Lucius looked at his son. "Hold on for a moment boy, I'd like to have a private word with Fitzherbert." Without waiting for a response, Lucius stormed into the psychiatrist's office, slamming the door behind him.

Fitzherbert, who had been writing at his desk, got up as soon as he heard his old friends footsteps.

"Now, you better make this quick, seeing as how I have a-"

But Lucius grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"He isn't _changing_, Fitzherbert!" Lucius spat in the other man's face.

"Lucius, you know as well as I do that these things take _time_! I was young then. Being young enabled me to work easily. You should be glad that I can still do this, you know!"

"Should I, now? Well, whatever you're doing, it _isn't the same as what you did in the past_."

"Most of the others lost their touch and they were _older_."

"Ah, yes, you were the prodigy, the youngest in the team. Your cousin was _so_ proud that his younger relative was doing such a good job as a-"

"Now you _shut up_, Lucius! My cousin is dead, all right? He _died_. He is now just a tale. A legend. A myth. It doesn't matter what you call it. But the truth is, that he is _gone, forever_. We lost him ages ago, Lucius. Now, he just plagues our minds."

Lucius let go of his friend's collar. "Is that how you see him? As a _plague_? Something awful? He did many wonderful things in his day, Fitzherbert."

Fitzherbert crossed his arms. "Yes, he did. But also terrible, awful things that will leave more than a scar in history's face."

Lucius walked over to a bookcase and ran his finger along the edge, gathering dust on the way. When he reached the end of the ledge, he rubbed the gathered dust between his fingers and sighed.

"I am getting older, Fitzherbert," Lucius said, still fascinated by the dust.

"So I have noticed," Fitzherbert said, arms still crossed.

"There is little that I can do for the boy as I age. You are younger and can relate to him better." Lucius sauntered over to the other man to whisper in his ear.

"Bring him to us. He can follow in your footsteps. He can prosper just as you had, he can-"

"_Enough!_" Fitzherbert yelled, pushing Lucius away in the process.

"Do you think I will turn into Judas and hand Draco over, just as he's actually beginning to trust someone?"

Lucius simply laughed. "Taken a liking to the boy, have you?"

"Once you break down his wall, he can be very likeable."

Lucius slammed his fist into the nearest table. "Damnet, Fitzherbert! He is not supposed to be likeable! He is supposed to be ruthless, just as you were!"

"You can't expect me to believe that you want him to be a mini-me? After all this time that I've tried to get him to speak to me!"

"Fitzherbert, do your job right for once!"

"I am! My job is to help people with their problems, not create more for them! I think you should go now, Lucius. There is nothing left to be said. I will see your son same time, next week."

The other man shrugged. "Fine, if that is how you see it."

Fitzherbert mumbled something inaudible before going back to his desk.

"Aren't you going to show me the door and say goodbye?"

"You know where the door is. Just _leave_!"

Lucius turned on his heel and marched towards the door. Right before he turned the knob, Fitzherbert spoke.

"A girl once sent me a letter. The letter said that I can see the pain behind her eyes, that I can touch her heart when it's about to turn to dust, and also that I stood by her when everyone else betrayed her trust. It was Lily who said that. I never betrayed Lily. I just didn't get there in time. The same is with Draco, but this time, I will get there before something happens. I will never betray him and become two-faced. If you are looking for someone like that, then go to someone else. I bet you know who else does those kinds of acts. Because not you, not even my cousin's ghost will get me to betray your son. I gave up that act a _long_ time ago. I would die before that happened."

When he turned around, he noticed that Lucius had gone, typically leaving the door open for him to shut. He smiled despite himself.

"Just as well," he thought out loud, "I didn't feel like having a million questions about my relationship with Lily put on me, anyway."

**********

**Authors Notes: I realize that Fitzherbert's secretary was only given a name in the second chapter. That's because I forgot to give her a name in the first place. Kayli is a personal friend of mine. I own her. You cannot have her. The pub man's name (Johnathan Masbeth) was from the movie Sleepy Hollow.**

The quotes (oh how I love the daily quotations that I get in my inbox): "He who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life" and "So of cheerfulness, or a good temper, the more it is spent, the more it remains" are from Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was an American lecturer, poet and essayist. 

"The significance of a man is not in what he attains, but rather in what he longs to attains" was from Kahlil Gibran, who was a Lebanese-American philosophical essayist, novelist and poet.

I'm the queen of rip-off, and would like to point out that many of the ideas in the fortune teller scene are from the anime 'Cowboy Bebop'. Try as I might to re-word them, it just wasn't possible. Besides, all the ideas fit anyway. I credited. You cannot flame me now for not crediting! Other quotes from Bebop are scattered throughout.

Thank you to all my betas for their undying support and help. Thank you to my reviewers and friends, you guys keep me going.

**Next Chapter: The past is re-lived for dear ol' Fitzy and Ginny, we find out why Lucius is being such a whiney bitch and why he calls Draco 'boy' all the time, Hermione has more dreams (which further the plot), and other stuff that I daren't mention right now. Only two more chapters until its back to school!**


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